


A Port in the Storm

by MyBeautifulDecay



Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-05-30 17:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 43,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBeautifulDecay/pseuds/MyBeautifulDecay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire finds herself alone, after the death of her uncle, and has to decide how to proceed. The 18th Century isn't too kind to females alone, and the choice will send her on a path she never expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU which takes place around 1738, Claire is not a time traveller and has grown up in the 18th century.

The first time he saw her, she had her head down, marching with purpose down the corridors of the Universitè. It wasn’t unusual for women to be there, but she stood out. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

The second time he saw her, she was being followed by one of the younger professors on the History staff, he thought he recognised him from the beginning of term. He appeared to be in heated conversation with her, she didn’t seem happy to be in his company. This made Jamie smile.

The third time, he made a decision. He followed her, from a distance. She wasn’t like the other lassies, she was confident, she held her head high and she was extraordinarily beautiful. He followed her down the winding halls until she slipped quietly into one of the science classrooms. He suddenly felt the need to add another class to his already overflowing schedule, he’d be happy if he could simply learn her name.


	2. The Aftermath - Claire's Story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight time jump from the prologue, dinna fash, all will be revealed.

She was perched on the windowsill staring across the now empty fields.

“Where’s yer heid lass…?”

“It was the storm…I…we were stuck out there”

The goosebumps raised on her arms as she spoke.

“…we were stuck, and the light…the light was going…gone, the rain…I hid in the barn to wait it out. I didn’t know he was there, at first. And then he was…there. Close, like static.”

“…and ye what, Claire?”

“It was my fault. I’d u-undone my laces, I was soaked…cold…”

Her cheeks flamed red; her eyes watered,

“Did ye lie together, Claire?”

“Yes.”

She returned; a whisper. A fresh tear slid down her cheek.

“The light came and went with the flash of the storm. We k-kissed. I don’t much remember losing my clothes…but I did.”

She took a jagged breath.

“I couldn’t stop. Didn’t want too.”

She lifted her chin in defiance.

“The sky was alive; every touch…his touch…his mouth on mine…I felt alive.”

She clenched her arms tighter around herself and swallowed before continuing.

“W-we were on the floor, surrounding each other. Every inch of my skin was on fire…and then, then i-it happened.”

Her eyes closed.

“His hips were against mine…”

The words nearly ran together, she spoke so quickly.

“…he…I…w-we…”

Her legs rose; closer towards her as her toes curled at the memory.

“…we were so close. It hurt at first, but then it didn’t anymore and I-I don’t understand it all…what it was between us, why…why I couldn’t think properly. I felt like my soul had risen from my body.”

It didn’t seem possible, but her voice dipped lower still.

“A-and then I was flying and shaking, and h-he was shaking too. Not from the cold or rain…it wasn’t much rain anymore, anyway. We were clutching at each other, he…his mouth was on my neck, his stomach against mine, my legs…”

Her eyes opened, clouded with the high of reliving the experience,

“…anchoring him to me.”

She turned to meet her visitor, eye to eye.

“I’m not sorry it happened.”

She spoke confidently, but her eyes betrayed her worry.

“Aye, I see that lass. Well, neither is he.”

The breath she didn’t realise she was holding came out all in a rush from her lungs, as a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

“Jamie isna sorry either.”


	3. The Aftermath- Jamie's Story

He paced up and down the expanse of floor at the end of his bed, head bent, hands ruffling the already tussled curls atop his head. 

“Calm yerself lad!” Gruff, dulcet tones echoed from the doorway “ye’ll run a hole in the floor if ye arena careful!” 

Jamie stopped, sighed and turned to face his godfather. “What am I to do, eh?” He said, his eyes focused on the statue in front of him. 

“How could I have done anything differently?”

Murtagh sighed and entered the room, closing the door behind him. “I don’t know, Jamie. But I ken where ye can go from here…sit, just rest a minute and think.“ 

Jamie did as he was bid, padding to the bed and letting his full weight flop against the mattress. Murtagh watched as Jamie fidgeted and shifted, his eyes darting around the room, not seeing his surroundings but, no doubt, seeing Claire and their night in the barn. As if on cue the rain started to patter against the glass. “When I woke, she wasna there anymore! I didna even get the chance to tell her…aye?” 

He seemed defeated, like he already had assumed the worst.

“And did ye seek her out soon after? Put her straight on the matter, lad?”

“No, I…well…that’s to say…I didna know whether she’d be disposed to hear me out, aye?” 

Murtagh sighed, heavier, and looked at his godson, whom at that moment seemed very young indeed, younger than his nineteen years. He wasn’t the only one who sometimes forgot Jamie’s age, he’d always seemed so savvy and mature, but he’d never been in love before.

"But ye didna try! How can ye know what she’ll be thinking if you dinna try and explain yerself?”

The question seemed very sensible indeed, now that it was posed.

“Dinna ken…” He replied, lamely. “…I just…it all happened so fast. One minute the rain was lashing down and I was retreating for the barn, the next she was in front of me, taking off her bodice!”

He held his tongue, worried he’d already gone too far, worried he’d spurt out the whole passionate evening. It wasn’t that he thought Murtagh would be scandalised by it, more that he found it special to him and Claire. Special enough that he wanted to keep it all to himself. 

“Did ye ever think, lad, what it might feel for her? How she might feel awaking with you, and not knowing how ye might react once ye awoke?”

Jamie’s head whipped round quickly, as he met Murtagh eye to eye, he knew he was wise, but he wasn’t sure how much expertise Murtagh had in the area of love. It was becoming quite clear that he was no beginner, he’d been aware of certain whispers and mutterings surrounding Murtagh and his mother, but he’d never given them much thought…until now. His godfather’s voice was strained, his eyes glossed with memories of his lost love, of that Jamie was sure.

"What if ye’ve got yon Sassenach with child, Jamie lad?” Murtagh’s voice was serious. 

What if he had caught her? What would be done? 

“I…I…” He stuttered. Unable to think about what that could mean for her, he knew what it meant to him. His belly was alight, all of a sudden. Something he didn’t even know he’d craved had been sparked within him.

“She could be, ye ken that fine enough…” 

Jamie blinked; swallowed and closed his eyes tightly. “Aye, she could.” 

Murtagh moved forward and gently placed his hand over Jamie’s clenched one, in comfort. “I’ve seen the way ye look at her, it isna a passing phase. Go, Jamie, talk to her, aye? Dinna leave the lass in the dark…”


	4. The Aftermath - Reunions.

Jamie marched purposefully across the hall from his room. He had left Murtagh straight away, he’d been right of course, he needed to make things clear to Claire before any more time passed.

He tried her room, searched the whole of the big house and then scoured the fields. She was nowhere to be found. As the light started to fade, Jamie started to panic. Where was she? Surely she hadn’t left…

——–

“Jamie lad!”

Came Murtagh’s call, he’d been stood on the stoop contemplating his next move when his godfather came across him.

“Dinna fash! She’s off wi’ yer Mam, come inside, aye? I’m sure they’ll be back soon.”

Instead of heading into the main house, though, Murtagh lead Jamie over to his small cottage, perplexed he followed without question.

As they got closer to Murtagh’s he could smell a strange sent wafting through the air.

“Have ye been cooking Murtagh?”

His tone was filled with wonder, he’d never seen Murtagh make anything so much as mess his whole life.

“Nay, lad. It isna me!”

Confused they finally reached the front door, Jamie went through first, at Murtagh’s insistence.

What he saw made his eyes light up. Claire was bent over the large broth pot next to the fire, humming and stirring. She was a vision, the flames rose up and threw the most amazing colours against her pale skin. He smiled to himself as he watched her, completely forgetting that he was blocking the door.

“Well lad! Are ye goin’ in, or are ye changing yer mind on being Laird someday, and are taking up residence here keeping yon breeze oot!”

Startled, Claire dropped the spoon into the pot, having not realised anyone had returned.

“Oh! It’s you, you scared me.”

Jamie moved himself closer.

“Aye, Sassenach. Sorry. I didna…I’ve never seen ye cook by yerself before, lass. What will it be then?”

“It’s nothing really, Jamie. Just something your mother taught me. I…well, that’s to say…I’ve never had to cook. I thought maybe it was time I learned one or two things.”

They smiled at each other, both had been so busy they’d failed to notice Murtagh slip away with a sly grin on his face. Food, whiskey and some conversation…alone, that’s what those two needed.

——-

They managed to get though their tea without any awkward pauses, but once it was all finished a silence descended over them.

“Jamie…I”

He could tell she was nervous, she was ruffling the fabric of her skirts between her fingers.

“Go on, Sassenach, ye can tell me anything…aye?”

“T-that night. I should explain…why I wasn’t there when you awoke.”

“Aye, I canna say I wasn’t disappointed to wake wi'out ye lass. But I ken that ye must have had good reason…”

“Yes, quite. I-I…when I woke, we weren’t alone, Jamie.”

She took a deep breath, he saw she was gathering herself together, her cheeks flaming red. He hoped it wasn’t Jenny who’d ventured out to find them. Claire and Jenny were still on unsteady ground with each other.

“Your father. He must have come out to find us.”

Jamie coughed and his cheeks joined Claire’s, glowing in embarrassment. His Da? He hadn’t said a word to him about it, he prayed he’d been kind to Claire.

Seeing his startled expression, she continued as quickly as possible.

“He didn’t say anything, but the way he looked at us, at me…I knew…he expected me to go with him. He let me dress and then he accompanied me back to the house. J-just before we reached home, he told me why…why he’d bought me back”

Jamie started to smile as Claire continued.

“He said…to me…that if we’d have been caught by anyone else…the rumours, you know how they were when I arrived, well, he was right…they’d have been worse. He explained that he wasn’t mad, b-but that we needed to be proper. And I do, Jamie. I want to do this…do it right.”

His smile was so wide now it almost split his face, his teeth glistened white against the now dark background of the room, the fire still glowing but slowly dying behind them.

“Ye called it home, Claire…”


	5. Backsteps - The Death of a Dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A step back in time now, to see how it all began.

“You forget, my dear, that I knew your Uncle Lambert quite well…”

Jamie walked slowly towards the closed door, he hadn’t expected to have to fight for Claire’s company tonight, he’d assumed she’d have been left alone with her grief.

"He and I, we had an accord. One that binds you to me in his absence. He trusts me with your care; after all, a young lady like yourself has no means to live alone without a gentleman to care for her. Your uncle believed I was such a gentleman.“

Even from behind the door he could tell the silence was charged, the air thrummed with the hint of rebellion. Claire was not a wilting flower, he knew from his interactions with her that she wouldn’t take kindly to the suggestion that she might require a man to take care of her, though he was well aware of how true a statement it was.

"Care for me? I do not require any assistance, thank you very much. Uncle Lamb knew me better than you do…or ever will!”

She hadn’t raised her voice, but her tone spoke volumes. She wasn’t about to be married off to whomever was currently occupying her time.

"Soon, Claire, the money will run out. There isn’t a soul in this city that will allow you to practice your ‘healing’. Lambert allowed you to dally in these things, God knows why, but it cannot continue. Consider my offer carefully…“

"There is no offer I wish to consider; I am quite capable.”

"The money will run out. Do you forget? You’re alone, no dowry, no living family to speak for you. Who’ll have you as you are? If you decline me, Claire, you’ll end up on the streets, or worse, a whore…“

Jamie sensed her temper rising, maybe this was the right moment to make his presence noted.

He’d been in Professor Beauchamp’s Advanced Historical Sciences class for his last year at the Universitè, his niece had been by his side for nearly all of his classes and she’d caught his eye immediately, she was part of the reason he had ended up in the class in the first place. Tall and statuesque with molten whiskey eyes and a flurry of curly dark brown hair atop her head, Claire had proved popular with professors and students alike. She had a natural skill for healing and medicines and Professor Beauchamp adored her.

It’d been an incredibly bad accident that had seen Claire left all alone in the world, and Jamie had half a mind to offer himself as her protector. At the time he’d believed she would never have taken him, no matter how genuine he’d been. But now it seemed like he might be called upon to act upon his desires, especially if it meant keeping her from unseemly suitors.

"I shall repeat, mistress…”

Disdain dripped from every word,

"…I will not be defeated on this. You and I are promised. I suggest you pack your belongings; I’ll give you a week. I don’t expect to be kept waiting any longer, Claire.“

He punctuated her name precisely, inflicting it with an air of threat. Someone who wasn’t to be crossed.

The door slid open and Jamie stepped into the shadows as the gentleman passed by him in the corridor and disappeared round the corner.

For a moment he stood in shock, he couldn’t in good conscience leave his Claire to this man. Something was off, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was genuinely afeared.

He slowly inched his way towards the still open door, he could hear her shuffling about inside, small muffled sobs echoed out and down the hall. His heart ached for her, an instinctive urge to protect rose within him and he lost his candor and strode purposefully into the room.

He was not prepared for what awaited him. She had curled herself on the bed, facing away from him. Her small body shaking quietly.

"Mistress…”

He called out to her, she stilled suddenly and picked herself up, yet she did not turn to face him.

"…I’m sorry to have bothered ye, only I have a book to return…it’s yers now, I guess.“

"T-thank you, you can just leave it on the side.”

It seemed as though she were dismissing him, but he wasn’t about to be dissuaded so easily.

"Mistress, if I may be so bold?“

She turned slowly, not all the way around, but enough so that he could see her profile and the solitary tear dripping down her cheek, it didn’t seem like she was averse to him continuing, so he did.

"I have a place on a ship, we’re, that is to say, me and my godfather have passage to Scotland, aye? I canna in good conscience leave ye hear wi'out offering…asking ye to accompany us. Please, Claire…mistress, I know we havna talked an awful lot, but I ken fine that ye’re not happy to accept your previous offer. Ye would be protected there. Me and Murtagh would see to it, I promise.”

"I…well, there is no need. Honestly, ignore Frank. I’ll be fine. You needn’t put yourself out…“

She finally turned to look at him, eye to eye,

”…Jamie.“

The way she said his name filled his heart, he had to try. He walked slowly over and sat opposite her on the only chair in the room. Her hands were curled together, tightly, resting in her lap. He reached out tentatively, all the while keeping eye contact to be sure she wasn’t averse to the idea, and placed his large hand over her two small intertwined ones.

"Mistress Claire, this is not a promise I make lightly. There is a place for ye, at Lallybroch. It’s locked away in the Highlands, surrounded by woods and fields. It’s safe, aye? Ye wouldna be forced to marry, should ye not wish to. My mam and sister, Jenny, would be there. They would be grand company for ye. Ye could bring yer herbs with ye, be a healer. As ye are here, ken?”

Her large eyes held his, swimming in tears not yet shed. They were beguiling and he had half a mind to lose himself.

"Prof…Frank, is he a danger to ye, mistress?“

She blinked, and scrunched her brow in thought. Swallowing audibly, her lips quivered, just for a moment, but he was incredibly perceptive. He knew she was about to stretch the truth.

"No, Jamie. He’s just persistent. Not dangerous. This is something he has been trying to…finish…for a long time. You see, his father and uncle Lamb, they had an agreement. He gave uncle Lamb funds to research his classes here, this room is part of that deal. In return he was to secure my hand. I’m sure…now he’s g-gone…”

She had to pause to take a moment, still lost in grief and loneliness,

"…that it’ll no longer stand. I’m sure.“

"Aye, maybe yer right.”

Jamie pulled his hand back, he needed time to think, and so did she.

"Whatever ye think, mistress, my offer still stands. We leave in four days, please…consider it?“

She didn’t respond verbally, but nodded her head as he stood to leave.

"I’ll leave ye now, mistress Claire. Get some rest.”

His heart was pounding in his chest as he left her alone. He felt this extreme pull towards her, and he was sure she felt it too. Murtagh would know what to do. As soon as he arrived in Paris he would ask his advice.

He walked home through the now dark Parisian streets to calm himself, there had to be a way to get her to accept his offer, a way to get her out of the way of Professor Frank Randall.

————————————————————-

“Tell me, Mistress Claire, is this Professor Randall dangerous?”

She looked him in the eye and considered lying, but Murtagh’s hard, honest stare stopped her.

"He’s a professor of history, but he has a large knowledge of law. I-I don’t think he’s dangerous, as such, but he has a cousin. He’s in the British army, he’s been assisting Frank in securing my…acceptance of his proposal for a while now. Whilst I had Uncle Lamb, he couldn’t do much more than persist. Now I fear he’ll succeed.“

Claire sighed and sat slowly down on the only other piece of furniture in the room besides the bed, pulling her knees up and softly laying her head against them, her eyes closed as she continued.

"I didn’t purposely deceive Jamie, honestly. I know he asked the same question and I gave a different response. I’m sure you know.”

"Aye, mistress. Ye did. He spoke with me, he didna believe what ye said. So; I knew there must be more to the tale.“

"I was…worried. That he might do something rash, that he might track Frank down…and that wouldn’t have helped!”

She seemed at a loss.

"I don’t need a man! I don’t need to be tied to someone to be able to survive. I was happy, Murtagh! Uncle Lamb…being here in Paris, I was helping people and learning! The moment I accept Frank’s proposal, that’s the moment I’ll be forced to give this up. I don’t know how to stop it, but I’m damn sure not giving up. I will not be someone’s property!“

"Then ye must come with us Mistress, I ken that ye dinna want to leave yer life here, but I don’t see as you have another option. If ye wish to live freely, aye?”

Finally, Claire opened her eyes once more.

"How would that leave me in any different a position?“

"It would leave ye with protection, if I may be so bold, mistress. Myself and Wee Jamie. We would take ye in our care. Ye wouldna have to immediately be wed. It wouldna matter that ye have nobody, or any money. I promise ye that.”

Claire sighed, and lifted her head to look directly at Murtagh.

"We leave in three days, aye? Ye have until then. I’ll leave the address with ye, mistress. What I’ve promised ye stands, but we canna wait to leave Paris any longer than that. Jamie is expected home.“

He nodded solemnly at her as he inched towards the door.

"I hope to see ye, Claire. If not, luck be with ye.”

Murtagh placed a roughly scribbled note containing his and Jamie’s residence on the table by the door before leaving a teary eyed Claire to her thoughts. He sincerely hoped she’d choose wisely, but he’d done as much as he could. For now, it was up to her.


	6. In which things don't always go to plan...

The coach had arrived for the boys early. Murtagh was glad of it, maybe if Jamie were sat down he’d stop his pacing. All of their belongings had been packed and were now all aboard, ready for them to be on their way.

There was one problem. Claire still hadn’t shown. Jamie was cautious, but optimistic. He kept muttering under his breath, his fingers tapping out the same rhythm against his bouncing knee.

"Ye have to calm yerself, Jamie lad. If she doesna come, there isna anything ye can do, ye’ve done all that is to be done.“

The sun was just rising and it cast a deep orange glow over them.

"Aye, but she will come, Murtagh, I ken it. She will.”

His eyes were sharp, trained on his godfather with a very stern glint.

"We just have to give her the chance to get here, aye?“

"Aye. Alright. If yer so sure. But we canna wait longer than a few minutes and ye know it well.”

Jamie went back to looking out onto the street from the coach. The horses were as restless as he was, braying and moving forward and back slightly. They could sense his agitation, he tried to quell his nerves but he found as time ticked on, he became more and more on edge. She had to come, he was sure. More than sure.

Murtagh couldn’t say the same. He had known, when him and Claire had spoken, that there was a part of her that knew it was the right choice. But she was also afraid and alone. Professor Randall offered a life that she knew, things that she was used to. Him and Jamie could only offer her the unknown, and that had to be frightening for a young lady.

Both of the men had spoken of her options, and both had presented good arguments for her to join them on their journey back to Scotland, but, as Murtagh knew well, she had to be willing to shut her head off for a moment and listen to her heart. If she had done that, he was sure she would be on her way to them.

But there was always the risk that she had not. She was a logical woman; she’d had a traditional English upbringing. Even though she had been against her impending marriage, she had still been raised to accept it without much ado.

"We can only hope she can bury that notion…“

He muttered under his breath, luckily too low for Jamie to hear, even if he had been paying attention.

”…ah Dhia, Claire. I dinna ken if yer coming, but I hope ye know what yer doing, lass.“

Jamie shifted, and Murtagh worried for a moment that he’d heard him, but he simply went back to gazing down the streets. The city was beginning to come to life, they’d have to leave soon.

"Jamie…”

Murtagh broached, tentatively.

"…we need to be off lad, the time is passing.“

"Just a moment more, please. She’ll be here!”

He couldn’t in all good conscience let this go on for too long, but they’d come this far, he would allow a moment more.

He didn’t want to admit it to Jamie, but he was sore himself. With each passing second it became more likely that Claire wasn’t going to show.

After only meeting with her once, he had developed a bit of a soft spot for her. Jamie had picked himself a bonnie lassie, if she didn’t turn up, he feared the lad might never get over her and he knew that feeling all too well.

All he could do was sit and wait. And pray.


	7. Bad Dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't panic! Mr Mainwaring.

They’d been trying to conceive for months, Claire felt like it’d been forever. What was supposed to be special between a man and wife had now become perfunctory. She had tried to enjoy it from the beginning, thinking that if she had to do it, it might as well be fun. But she had been unable to. Now, when Frank was expecting her to be with child, it was even worse. Bound by obligation, she could only lie back and pray for it to be over quickly.

With every failure, Claire became despondent. She had been sitting darning his socks when he’d arrived home, red faced.

"Are you listening to me, Claire?“

Frank had become increasingly more frustrated with her, he could no longer contain his ire.

"You are to go to Scotland, maybe Jack can make some good out of this situation. I can’t have you around here at the moment.”

Her head snapped up.

"Scotland? But…it isn’t my fault!“

"So whose do you suggest it is? Mine? I don’t think so. It’s your job to provide the children, MY heirs! Do you understand?”

She jumped at his raised voice. In times like these, she was glad they had no children. This wasn’t a world in which she wanted to raise any.

"And what am I to do in Scotland, Frank?“

She no longer had any fire in her tone, just acceptance.

"You’ll assist in the healing and aid of any of my cousins’ soldiers, and you’ll keep yourself out of trouble! Do you hear?”

She nodded, her eyes now fixed on her intertwined hands, his socks, now forgotten, had fallen at her feet. It was too late for arguments, for the ‘what if’s’, she’d made her choice not a year ago.

"I’ll make arrangements for your passage. Once you are acquainted with your duties there, I expect you’ll have no problems.“

"And if I do?”

"Then you’ll see Jack about them, you can answer to him now. You’ll be provided for, Claire. But I want to hear no nonsense from you. You’ll go there, and you’ll do as needed for as long as is necessary.“

It didn’t seem there was anything more to say, so she picked herself up off the chaise and retired to her room. She wouldn’t cry, she wasn’t going to let him see her weak.

—

Fortunately, they’d been residing in London whilst Frank renewed his contract with the Universitè so she had only a carriage ride to Fort William. She busied herself by watching England pass by from the window, then Scotland as they rode on through the lowlands and upwards.

When they finally reached their destination, tired and sore from sitting for so long through the day, Claire was ready to simply curl up. She had no idea what awaited her in Scotland, and yet she had no desire to ask.

Captain Randall met her at the entrance. He was just as she remembered him. He and Frank were similar in looks, tall and dark with handsome features. But where Frank had once been kind, Jack was harsh. There was no kindness in his eyes and his face seemed permanently fitted with a dark look. He shot her an icy glance that sent a cold shiver down her spine.

"Mrs Randall, I assume Frank has informed you as to what you are to do here?”

She held her head high as she replied.

"Yes, he said I was to assist you with healing.“

"Good. Then we’ve no need to discuss it any further, I’ll have Hawkins here..”

He pointed to a shy young fellow, who was skulking behind in his shadow and looking rather gaunt.

"…take you to your quarters. I’m afraid we don’t have anything spare befitting…a lady. You’ll have to make do.“

With that he turned and left, leaving Claire to herself.

She was led through the fort, which was a depressing place even in the daylight, up past the quarters that held the soldiers and into a dank, cold wing.

As they rounded another corner, in silence, she was beginning to realise where they were headed. Not into even a small room off the barracks, but down to the cells, which held the few prisoners kept onsite.

Still, she said nothing, simply followed Hawkins. Had he turned around, he would have seen her scared look. This was to be her fate? Locked away until she was needed, she hadn’t thought Frank could be so cruel. Surely he hadn’t known this would befall her? Her heart clenched as she remembered the cold look Frank had given her as she’d left London, yes, he certainly may have known what was awaiting her here, the words 'as long as necessary’ and 'you’ll do as needed’ floated into her mind. The thought made her eyes well, but she managed to hold back her anguish.

As they finally reached, what appeared to be their destination, Hawkins turned to Claire.

"S-sorry madam, this is to be your quarters.”

He stuttered as he pointed to the cold, dank cell in front of them. There was no window and only a tiny cot pushed up against the wall, covered in filthy blankets, possibly left by the last inhabitant.

"The Captain says you are to be kept down here and only called for when needed.“

Claire had no words, she simply nodded. She couldn’t even find the strength to step forward, if she just stayed where she was, surely, he would laugh, call it a joke and re-route to a more suitable location.

As it was, Hawkins just stared wide eyed at her, waiting for her to accept her fate and her new quarters.

"Please; don’t leave me here…” She managed to cough out, her small voice echoing through the empty corridors.

"So sorry, madam…but…this is w-what’s been set…“

He seemed genuinely afraid, and she certainly didn’t want him to get into bother because of her.

She hugged herself tightly as she nodded and walked forward, slowly, into the cell. She didn’t even turn as the door closed and locked with a solid clunk behind her.

Only once she heard Hawkins’ footsteps fade away did she allow herself to let go of the tears she’d been holding.

As quietly as she could, she allowed the wracking sobs to overtake her, as she slid to the ground beside her cot. Punishment; that’s what this was, her punishment for not providing Frank with a suitable heir.

It wasn’t long before the cold began to seep into her bones and she was forced to curl herself up in the spoiled blanket. Still on the floor, she allowed herself to fall into a stunted sleep.

—-

A pounding on the cell door awoke her some hours later, she jumped awake, her heart beating a similar rhythm to the impatient guest at her door. Her fists clenched around the, now seemingly softer, coverlet she had wrapped around her. Claire opened her eyes and blinked in shock.

No longer was she locked away in a Scottish fort, she was back in her uncle’s rooms at the Universitè. Her heart was still beating furiously as she allowed herself to catch her breath.

"Oh God…”

She was sweaty, panicked and shaky, but she let out a nervous laugh in relief. It was just a dream.

In a flash she was up, the sun was just rising outside. She couldn’t remember if Murtagh had set a specific time for their leaving Paris, but she fervently hoped she still had time.

Ignoring the knocking at her door, she threw together the few things she had left and grabbed her cape before rushing through the door.

The intern who stood on the other side gasped and fell back, as Claire darted past him, a flurry of skirts, he didn’t even get chance to deliver his memo before she had vanished round the corner.

The corridors were flushed with the orange glow of the morning light, it made the place seem almost heavenly. Claire smiled as she darted out and across the small grassy patch at the entrance to the residences, the sun now bright, hovering delightfully above her with the promise of a new future.


	8. Setting Sail.

In the rush there had not been time to rearrange places aboard the ship Murtagh had booked passage on. He had only foreseen needing space for him and Jamie, and so had only brokered two cabins.

Once Claire had eventually turned up, dashing through the Parisian streets gasping and holding her skirts, all aflutter, he had graciously forfeited his own cabin for her. Jamie had been so busy trying to tamper his joy, that he had been paying little attention to anyone but Claire and had just nodded along. Murtagh was under no illusion that he had heard anything that had been said, but simply smiled to himself, readied the carriage for departure and finally relaxed, for the first time in at least three days.

Usually, Murtagh refused to share a ship’s cabin with his godson, on the grounds that Jamie was a terrible sailor. In their haste he had momentarily forgotten this. He had also misplaced the whiskey he had stowed away for such an occasion. If he could, he would get Jamie a wee bit pickled before boarding. That way he may spend the first portion of the journey inebriated enough as to be distracted from the swaying.

As it was, Jamie was sober, and the ship had been delayed in its crossing. A bad storm was just ebbing as they pulled into port. Murtagh sighed, it would surely be a long trip across the sea.

—

He was right, the seas were choppy and rough. It hadn’t been long before Jamie had lost the contents of his stomach and Murtagh had lost his cabin.

"I’m no’ staying in there, wi’ him retching all over the place…"

He muttered to himself as he trudged his away above deck. Being battered by waves would be preferable to the stale smell of sweat and vomit.

He hadn’t expected to encounter anyone about the ship in such terrible weather, but as he rounded the last corner he ran smack into Claire. She seemed distracted, her hands twisted in her skirts and her cheeks flushed from the heat below deck, the pink tinge running along her jaw and down her neck.

"Mistress, would it not be better for ye to try and get some rest? We have a long journey on horseback when we dock, aye?“

"I…couldn’t. It’s a lot, you know, to take in. I just needed a walk. What are you doing? Is Jamie alright?”

Her words came quickly, breathless from her mindless pacing around the ships’ narrow corridors, though concern won out when she spoke of Jamie. Small beads of sweat gathered on her forehead and she wiped them away, her hands finally releasing her skirts. She still seemed restless, her feet scraping against the panels on the floor, she looked like she might bolt at any moment, like a cornered rabbit.

She looked around, her eyes flitting from surface to surface, expecting Jamie to pop up at any moment but when he didn’t, she turned back to Murtagh.

"Ah, weel, the lad’s no’ too good wi’ sailing, mistress. His belly canna take the movement, ye ken?“

"He’s seasick? Why did you not say, I have something that might help him. Depending on if he can keep it down now, of course.”

She smiled softly, and touched Murtagh’s hand.

"Why don’t you take my cabin, and I’ll go and see to him? No point in us both getting no rest, and you’re the one doing most of the work.“

"That’s verra kind, mistress. Only if yer sure, o’ course?”

"Yes, certainly! I’ll just fetch some items and I’ll go and see to him.“

Murtagh was nothing if not grateful and accompanied Claire back to her cabin and then back along to theirs, enjoying the quiet calm of her presence, before leaving her with Jamie. Hopefully she’d be able to ease him some, and it wouldn’t hurt for her to become acquaint with the wee laddie.

Murtagh closed the door behind her, grateful for Claire’s knowledge of medicines and even more so for her generosity at loaning him back his own quarters.

—

Claire hadn’t really known what to expect, but what she found upon her entry to the boys’ cabin was an extremely pale, sweaty Jamie. Half on, half off the small cot, his eyes were glassy and his hair was plastered to his forehead. He didn’t seem to notice her entrance, so she walked tentatively over to him.

"Jamie? It’s me…Claire…”

She reached a hand out, slowly, and moved a lock of his hair aside.

"…I have something, a decoction, something to ease your stomach and possibly help you sleep. I just need you to sip it, can you do that?“

He didn’t respond with words, only intermittent groaning, so she eased him up, as best she could, slid underneath him so that his head lay in her lap, and began running her hands softly through his hair. Using her feet, she shifted the sick bucket Murtagh had left around so he could easily reach it had he wished to.

Hoping she could soothe him a little, she began humming, whilst gently massaging his scalp. His shoulders began to sag, but she wasn’t sure if it was her or simply sheer exhaustion. He hadn’t vomited since she’d arrived, so she could only hope that he’d already emptied his stomach.

His breathing had evened out, enough that Claire assumed he’d fallen asleep. The herb mixture forgotten, she began to talk. It felt good to be able to open up to someone, no matter what stage of consciousness they were in. In fact, him being barely awake aided her.

"I’m so scared, Jamie. All of this, moving away…I didn’t know what to make of yours and Murtagh’s offer, for the longest time I sat and thought about it, about whether it was genuine.”

"Na biodh sgàth ort, thu tha tèarainte. ’S mise a'dol chun gléidh thu…“

The subtle rumble of his voice had startled her at first, and she had sat bolt upright, her hands stilled in his hair.

"I worried…I didn’t know what would become of me if I stayed in Paris…” She continued, timidly.

"…Bha an t-eagal orm…bha mo chridhe ‘nam sgròban.“

As he had carried on, she could feel his baritone vibrating through her. It had taken her a second to realise that he wasn’t even speaking in English.

"I had a nightmare. It was…so real. I saw what I may happen if I didn’t leave with you…it was horrible.”

“…sheas i ann gun ach thig is cha dig aice…”

"It’s not the only reason I came, of course, but I knew…maybe I’d always known since you asked me, that I had to leave this place. I hope you know, Jamie, how grateful I am…for this…new start. But I’m still so scared.“

“Sorcha, tha mi gad fhaicinn. Cha bhi beud dhut. Falbh comhla rium, gabh mo làmh…”

…

“…Mo Sorcha, thu tha mo cridhe.”

Now, he spoke too low for her to hear. She swallowed, unable to move. He seemed to be barely conscious, unaware that he was even speaking out loud. Her hands slowly started their journey through his hair once more.

The waves which had seemed so fierce when they began their trip, seemed more more at ease finally. Jamie had quieted, and the silence stretched out between the two, the creaking of the wooden panels echoing through the small cabin. The room swayed idly with each swell which passed below them, lulling Claire into a light sleep. Her eyes closed and she allowed Jamie’s warmth to seep through her.

—

Neither of them stirred until Murtagh came to notify them that the ship had finally docked.

He had walked in to find them both in a deep slumber, Claire propped against the wall, her head knocking gently against the wooden beams, Jamie’s head laid in her lap. Her hands had still been tangled against his scalp. One of his hands had found their way back onto the cot, and were buried in her skirts.

He smiled to himself, if only he didn’t have to wake them, they looked so at peace, anchored to each other.

—

As they finally returned to dry land, Claire remembered the strange Gaelic words that Jamie had muttered in his delirium. She watched him, tall and statuesque, seemingly unaffected by his seasickness now, and quirked her head to the side. What had he said to her?

When she was close enough to him, close enough that she could smell the stale sweat that clung to his skin, along with the scent of the pure Scottish air, she considered posing the question. For a moment she faltered, afraid as to the answer.

Jamie sensed her before she could make herself known, he turned and smiled, and she looked coyly at him from under her lashes. He could tell she was building to something, so he gave her time to gather the courage.

She took another large breath, filling her lungs, biding her time.

"Out wi’ it lass, dinna be afraid.”

"Well…it’s just…in the cabin, you spoke…whilst you were…otherwise indisposed. In Gaelic. D-do you recall what you said?“

"Oh…”

The tips of his ears pinked at the memory.

"…ach, nay lass. I’m sorry. I dinna remember. I was more than a wee bit…gone. Aye?“

Before she could question him anymore, Murtagh returned with horses for their ride across country.

"Ye better be prepared, mistress. We may ha’ to kip under the stars a night or so, I hope ye dinna mind too much.”

He winked as he spoke and passed her the reins.

"So…to Lallybroch!“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaelic translation:   
> "Na biodh sgàth ort, thu tha tèarainte. ’S mise a'dol chun gléidh thu…”
> 
> {Don’t be afraid, you are safe/secure. I am going to protect you.}
> 
> “…Bha an t-eagal orm…bha mo chridhe 'nam sgròban.”
> 
> {I was afraid…my heart was in my mouth.}
> 
> “…sheas i ann gun ach thig is cha dig aice…”
> 
> {She stood there unable to decide whether or not to come.}
> 
> “Sorcha, tha mi gad fhaicinn. Cha bhi beud dhut. Falbh comhla rium, gabh mo làmh…”
> 
> {Claire, I see you. No harm shall come to you. Come with me, take my hand.}
> 
> “…Mo Sorcha, thu tha mo cridhe.”
> 
> {my Claire, you are my heart.}


	9. To Lallybroch!

True to Murtagh’s word, they had ridden hard over two days, sleeping amongst the heather, all curled together to keep each other warm.

The first night had been, by far, the coldest. They had all started off close, but with a small amount of distance between them, as the temperature had dipped Claire had snuck closer in her sleep, trying desperately to seek out warmth and had ended curled against Jamie’s chest, with her feet tucked between his calves.

She didn’t appear to have woken during this shift, but he did. Firstly, it was shock, as her cold toes rubbed softly against his legs, then he found he wanted to stay awake to simply enjoy the moment. She had started to let her guard down with the boys more and more, and he was convinced she was going to love Lallybroch.

"An t-àite dha am buininn, Broch Tuarach, bha an t-eagal orm. ‘S fheairrde thu sin, mo Sorcha.“

She remained as still as she could, having woken as he started speaking. Unable to understand what he was saying, she had just allowed the rumble of his chest to soothe her, as on the ship, quickly falling back to sleep.

As he looked down, he could see a small smile playing on her lips. The tilt of her head adjusting so her nose was buried further into his plaid, which he had been using as a blanket. There was certainly something to be said for roughing it, he thought.

–

On the third day they finally rode over the hill and down onto the outskirts of Fraser lands. Jamie was equally as excited as he was disappointed. No longer would he have an excuse to keep Claire warm at night, but at least he would be able to have a warm meal. His leg bounced nervously in the stirrups, he knew that his parents would grow to love Claire, he only hoped that they would be welcoming from the beginning. Realistically, he had no idea as to how they would react to him bringing home a Sassenach, but they were good people.

As the house neared, the smell of cooking food wafted through the air. The boys rode slightly ahead, Jamie hadn’t realised how much he had missed his parents until they’d come down into the valley, but now he was eager to be home.

Lallybroch stood tall, hovering over Claire, the shadow casting outward seemed to draw her in. She was more than a little afraid. She wished Uncle Lamb was there with her, he’d know exactly what to do. She looked to the sky, as if it might lend her some strength. Small droplets of rain started to fall, and as she brought her eyes down she spotted the slight hint of sun through the clouds, throwing a burst of light over the land behind the big house. Her fears eased a little, she pushed on to catch up to Jamie and Murtagh.

"Are ye alright, lass?” Murtagh questioned, seeing the apprehension in her eyes as he turned to see if she had kept up.

"Yes. Just, you know, a little nervous…“

Her hands gripped the reins, tight, as she trailed off, her voice breaking ever so slightly at the admittance.

"Dinna fash, Sassenach! I’ve already told ye, they’ll be fine. Mam and Da will welcome ye with open arms, I told ye I’d protect ye, they will be the same. Just be yerself, aye?”

She nodded, smiling shakily, as they continued. Ever closer to the house. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, a rhythmic throb that ran along her chest, down her arms and caused her thumbs to jump intermittently against the reins.

Breathe in, breathe out. She thought to herself, trying to remain outwardly calm.

They finally pulled their horses to a stop outside the barn, and Murtagh led them all away, leaving Jamie and Claire just off to the side of the house, by an arch that created an entrance up to the front door.

Her hands, cold and clammy, clenched and unclenched at her sides. Jamie smiled down at her, he could see her shoulders shaking slightly.

"Let me go in and see them, aye, then I’ll come and get ye. Like I said, dinna fash, Claire.“

With that he touched her hand gently and strode off under the arch and into the house.

At his entrance, she heard a myriad of sounds escape through the open door. The deep baritone laugh must have been that of his father, and the light whoops of joy could be his mother. She knew, also, of Jenny, his sister, but by this point there was so many happy sounds coming from inside, that she was unable to discern one from the other.

Unconsciously she had crept forward, and was now stood half in, half out of the big house. Her hand gripped the wood of the doorframe, one foot was on the threshold and the other was hung loosely against the last step, her eyes were wide as she took in the scene in front of her.

The whole family was surrounding Jamie, his mother and father on one side, and what must be his sister on the other. All had similar looks of happiness on their faces.

She licked her dry lips and swallowed, she’d never had a family before, and seeing Jamie’s in front of her made her eyes tear. Her heart, which only moments ago had been attempting to make a bid for freedom by pulsating close to the base of her throat, had now calmed enough that she was breathing more easily.

In her haze she’d failed to notice three sets of Fraser eyes, all now distracted from Jamie’s return, had found a stranger hovering in the door and were trained solely on her.

Brian coughed, and Claire startled. Jamie took this as his cue.

"Ahem, weel, Mam…Da, this is Claire Beauchamp. She had the misfortune of losing her uncle, my professor, whilst I was at the Universitè. She was in a bit of strife, so I offered her safety, here at Lallybroch. Claire, this is my ma, Ellen.”

Ellen turned more fully to face her, a tentative smile on her lips, and nodded.

"Hello Claire, I’m glad my wee boy here had the sense to offer ye some help, yer more than welcome…come…I’ll find ye something to eat. This is Brian, Jamie and Jenny’s da, and Jenny, Jamie’s elder sister.“

She pointed at the two, one of whom smiled warmly at her. Jamie’s da was tall and dark, and she could see why he’d been nicknamed ‘Black Brian’, his hair was the deepest shade of ash.

"Ach, hello Claire! Ye’ll be hungry, aye? It isna a short ride from Inverness. Lucky you had Murtagh and Jamie for company. I’m sure they told ye a good many tales!”

His voice was as friendly as his smile, and Claire found herself becoming more and more at ease. She glanced sideways at Jenny as she stepped, slowly, into the kitchen at the front of the house.

Where his parents had been so warm and welcoming, Jenny looked cold and hostile. She nodded, one jerk of the head, her eyes assessing Claire’s every move.

"Pleasure to meet you all, I’m so very grateful, to Jamie…to you all. I hope I can help in any way around the farm.“

Her solid English accent shocked them all, though only Ellen and Brian hid it, their eyes widened but they made no further comment. Obviously Jamie had failed to mention that.

"Jamie! A Sassenach?! Have ye lost yer mind little brother!" Jenny spat, she didn’t remain to hear an answer, though. Swirling, her skirts twisting at her feet, she strode out of the room, muttering the whole way.

Claire’s cheeks flamed red.

"I-I…I’m sorry…I…”

"Dinna apologise Claire, I should be the one who’s sorry, ignore Jenny, aye?“ Jamie quickly interjected, worried about the affect Jenny’s abruptness would have on Claire, he held out his hand to her to guide her further into the house. She looked around quickly, still abashed and afraid that she’d insulted his parents as well.

"I must apologise too, Claire, on our daughters’ behalf, she’s non so rude…usually. She’s just shocked, is all. She’ll come round. Now, tell us some about yer time in Paris, ye and Jamie can fill us in!”

Brian had moved to her side, and guided her forward. He and Jamie made sure she felt welcome enough to enter the main living room of the big house.

"Aye, I’d certainly love to hear of yer adventures!“ Claire smiled once more at Ellen’s interjection, still a little unsure, still frightened of Jenny’s reaction to her, but relived that Ellen and Brian seemed so friendly.

They all made their way through to the lounge room, and settled on the chairs there. Soon, Jamie was regaling them all with tales of his days at the Universitè. Murtagh had eventually joined them and the whiskey had been passed around.

They were all sufficiently relaxed when Jenny reappeared, she said nothing as she sat close to her parents. Her eyes bore holes into Claire’s sides, but she was determined to carry on the jovial atmosphere.

As the evening progressed, Claire had loosened up enough to share some tales of her own, all of which had Brian, Murtagh, Ellen and Jamie smiling widely. Jamie was simply happy that Claire was feeling comfortable in his home.

”…and then Uncle Lamb poured the claret out, and it splashed everywhere! Including covering the poor Dean’s wife. Which was unfortunate…since she had on a sheer white dress!“

Claire was smiling ear to ear. Her fond memories of Lambert Beauchamp, firmly imprinted on her mind, memories she hadn’t been able to properly process since his untimely death. She sighed, she missed him terribly. Her eyes welled a little, but she gathered herself enough to stop the tears from falling.

The fire, slowly dimming, spat out a final burst of flame, coating the room in a luminous red. Brian and Ellen watched Jamie with avid interest. It seemed their son had some explaining to do, but that could wait. Smiling to each other, they remembered the first days of their love. They knew their son had some obstacles to overcome, but neither doubted that he wasn’t capable of achieving what he needed to. Claire Beauchamp was no match for the Fraser stubbornness, once in love, they were destined to fight for what they truly wanted. Jamie would be no different.

Jenny, tired of watching her younger brother fawn over Claire, finally huffed and pushed herself from the armchair closest to the fire. Putting her empty glass down on the side table with some force, she mumbled as she left the sitting room and marched up the stairs.

"I canna stay up any longer, good night.”

Jamie, not wanting Claire to feel awkward once more, thought it best to calm him elder sister’s ire, and followed her.

The room feel silent. Ellen, Brian and Murtagh held their breath. Claire gripped her glass and studied its intricate patterns, very aware of the now renewed tenseness of her new home.

They could hear the subdued tones of Jenny and Jamie through the door at the top of the stairs, but nobody could make out what the siblings were discussing. Brian could only hope they kept it cordial.

"Aye! But ye brought home a wee Sassenach wench! Do ye hope to bring disrespect to yerself, ye clot heid! Do ye want the tenants to think yer mad! Yer to be Laird Broch Tuarach, I canna understand ye Jamie!“

Jenny’s raised voice echoed through the halls. Ellen’s cheeks flushed red, as she looked sorrowfully upon Claire, who still couldn’t bring herself to look at anyone. Sometimes her daughter hadn’t the discipline to hold her tongue.

"Come, Claire lass. Ye can stay wi’ me, aye. Dinna fash, it’s been a long few days, let go and rest up.”

Murtagh kindly spoke up, wanting to get Claire away from Jenny’s harsh words before any more damage could be done.

"I’ll make ye some broth afore bed.“

Claire rose from her chair, still red from her cheeks, all the way down to her neck. She nodded, eyes downcast, maybe tomorrow would be better.

"Thank you, Mr and Mrs Fraser, for y-your hospitality. I hope I can return the favour.”

She rushed out, eager to be away, lest anymore anger flowed from the upstairs of the house.

"Please, Claire dear, it’s Ellen and Brian aye?“

Ellen had risen from the settee and taken Claire’s hands in her own, the women held on for a short while, Claire taking strength from the Fraser matriarch. If Ellen approved of her presence, then she could surely ignore Jenny.

"Thank you, Ellen.”

She returned as they finally dropped their joined hands and Claire followed Murtagh out.

In the fresh evening air, she could finally breathe properly once more, she looked up at the stars, sighed and walked after Murtagh.

His cottage was only a short walk from the main house, a small one storied outbuilding that maybe once held animals, was now a comfortable living space. Luckily, he had two rooms suitable for sleeping, both warm and cosy.

Claire was grateful for a roof and a bed. It had been a long few days.

The pair walked in to the large living quarters, a small cot was pushed against the wall, close to the fireplace.

"Ye can sleep in the bedroom, mistress. That way ye can have some privacy.“

"I couldn’t take your room, Murtagh!”

She gasped, shaking her head as her eyes met his.

"It’s your house. Please, I’m more than happy to sleep out here.“

"Nay, lassie, take the room, please.”

He pointed towards the door, before ushering her over and guiding her in. The room was small, but well furnished. With a large bookcase propped against the wall next to the window. The cot in here was slightly larger, with tartan blankets strewn over. A bedside table stood next to the bed, a small hand carved piece that had, what she assumed were, Murtagh’s initials carved into it.

"Wee Jamie made that, with his da. When they first transformed the cottage for me, aye. A house warming gift. He wa’ so proud, the laddie was!“

He smiled at the memory, and Claire joined him.

"It’s beautiful. He is a man of many talents, isn’t he…”

"Aye, he is that, mistress. A big heart, our Jamie has. He’ll keep ye safe, I promise ye that Claire. Just sleep now, it’ll all be better come morning.“

With that he backed out of the room, closing the door as he went, leaving Claire to her thoughts.

Yes, she hoped it would be. She never wanted any of them to fall out over her, but she surmised that it couldn’t all be plain sailing. With that thought, she moved over to the bed and unfolded the sheets. The smell of clean soap wafted up, and she immediately felt fatigued. Curling herself under them, she fell into a restless sleep, hoping, fervently, that it would all look different come sunup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaelic Translation:
> 
> "An t-àite dha am buininn, Broch Tuarach, bha an t-eagal orm. ‘S fheairrde thu sin, mo Sorcha.”
> 
> {The place I come from, Broch Tuarach, it is small but it is good. It will do you good, my Claire.}


	10. In which the parents must assist the children...

The months passed, and with them so did the suspicion that hovered around Claire. The tenants of Lallybroch grew to love her as Ellen and Brian did. One by one she cured their ailments, treated their ills and helped birth their children.

The wary looks and whispers faded with every passing week and Claire grew ever more comfortable. Ellen gave her a patch of land in the small garden where she could nurture some of her own plants, should she wish, and she delighted in spending as much time as she could outdoors.

Jamie became her faithful companion, on days when he wasn’t needed in the fields or around the house he would trail Claire and ask question after question.

"…and what do ye do wi’ this one?“

He enquired, plucking the green leaf from between her fingers.

"You mix it, into goose grease. It’s good for fever and cold, for opening the airways to allow you to breathe easier, sniff it!”

He held it to his nose, inhaled and sneezed. Loudly. She laughed, tipping her head back at the sight of his flushed cheeks and watery eyes.

"Ach! Ye did that on purpose, Sassenach! Ye tricky wee lassie!“

"Maybe…” She chuckled,

"…but it is good for breathing.“

"Aye, I can see that.” He popped the plant back on top of her pile and continued to watch her at work.

"Most are good for simply helping alleviate symptoms, I used to watch healers all the time. Uncle Lamb, he took me to many places, everyone has different methods, that’s how I managed to reason out which were the best cures. Easy, really.“

Easy? He wasn’t sure about that, but she liked to downplay her talents.

He delighted in her company, her hands would become animated, flitting about her face like midges in summer. Her eyes would dart from plant to herb and back to his face as she described each one and its properties.

So it became habit. At the beginning of the week Jamie would attend to his chores, by Thursday he would be finished and free to pursue Claire on her errands.

Claire grew accustomed to his presence, his quiet enthusiasm, and his calm. She unconsciously revelled in it. Not only someone to converse with, a confidant, but his youthful charm warmed her from the inside out.

–

Brian had been paying close attention to the pair, noticing how close they became. Summer passed into autumn, the leaves fell from the trees and the air changed from pleasant warmth to chilly cold. He could see his son falling hard for young Claire, but there was still an air of caution that followed her around, surrounding her like a cloud.

He didn’t want to actively interfere with their tentative relationship, he had perfect faith in his son, but he felt a slight twinge in his wame every time she held herself back from Jamie.

It was Murtagh who gave him the idea, in the end. Claire was too used to Jamie being around.

Brian made sure he sent Jamie off without any time in which to inform Claire of his departure, purposefully. With any luck she’d finally see what it might be like if she were to have to live without him. Hopefully it would aid her, one way or the other.

–

Claire had spent the whole day on edge, where was he? Absently rubbing her hand over her heart, she would raise her head every few minutes to check if she was still alone, fervently hoping he would somehow pop up and break this feeling of…emptiness that was taking root in her bones.

The sun was dipping below the horizon as Claire finally made her way back to the big house for supper, alone. Slowly, she slogged up the last small rise and under the arch. The house seemed virtually deserted, though the smell of dinner still lingered in the air.

Ellen turned and smiled, softly, as she entered the kitchen, loitering in the doorway. Her brows furrowed as she noticed Claire’s slumped shoulders.

"Are ye alright, lassie? Ye dinna seem quite yerself…”

"I…yes. I think so.“ Her hand, palm flat against her chest, was still rubbing lightly over her heart, as if to check it was still there.

Brian, overhearing Claire’s entrance, popped out from the pantry, his head tipped to the side as he took in her stance.

"Ye’ll have had a good day then, aye Claire?” He enquired, his eyes meeting hers, as she finally looked over to him.

"Oh, yes. Thank you, Brian. It was…productive…“

A silence fell over the room, Ellen and Brian waited, patiently.

”…I don’t suppose…you haven’t seen Jamie…have you? He usually…ah…I usually see him in the afternoon, only he didn’t come.“ Her voice was so low; it was almost at a whisper. Her morose tone seemed all the more sorrowful when twinned with the forlorn look reflected in her eyes.

"Och! Aye, happens I have. He’s gone over to Beauly for me, to collect some whiskey. He’ll be back in a few days.”

He smiled as he walked over to the stove, collected a wet cloth and absently started to wipe the dirt off his fingers.

"D'ye need him, lassie?“

"Oh…oh no, it’s fine. I’ll…just be off then. Thank you, see you tomorrow…” She trailed off, turned slowly on her heel and quietly made her way from Lallybroch across to Murtagh’s cottage. Brian moved over to the window to watch her. Her posture remained the same, despondent. A kind of sorrow radiated from her.

"Ye didna have to send our Jamie off to Beauly did ye, Brian?“

Ellen’s eyes assessed her husband as he turned back to her, there was a touch of humour in her tone.

"Ach, well. No. I didna.”

"Then…why?“

"He kens how he feels for the lass, aye?”

"Aye…“

"But she doesna ken how she feels for him. I sent him awa’ to impress upon her the importance of his presence in her life. Did ye notice…?”

"Her hand, aye, I did.“

"She’s getting there, ye ken, her heart kens it’s missing a part. Now, to catch her heid up.”

He plucked an apple from the basket on the side, threw it in the air, winked at his shocked wife, caught it and wiped it against his breeks before striding from the room, leaving Ellen chuckling.

Men, they could be fair canny when they wanted to be.

–

Jamie strode through the front door of Lallybroch and shook himself off, it had just started to pour as he’d come over the last hill towards home. He was soaked to the bone. Shedding his sopping jacket, he walked purposely through the kitchen and into the hall. Three days away collecting whiskey for his father, he was grateful to be home once more.

"Son, is that you?“

"Aye, da. It’s me. Everything ye need is wrapped in the barn.”

"That’s fine, actually, I have something I’d like to ask ye, come and have some drink wi’ me. Ye can dry yerself off by the fire.“

That sounded ominous, hopefully nothing had happened in his absence. His brows scrunched in confusion as he made his way through to the sitting room.

His father stood by the mantelpiece, his arm draped over the finely carved wood, warming himself against the glow of the roaring fire.

"Is everything well? Claire’s alright..?”

"Aye Jamie lad, she is. She’s actually what I’d like to talk to ye about.“

Jamie’s eyes met Brian’s, bright blue and shining, an almost perfect replica of his mother’s. Brian thought he already had his answer, but he was going to make the lad say it out loud anyway.

"Me and yer mam, we can see how ye look at the lassie. Tell me, Jamie, what are yer intentions towards young Claire?”

Jamie cleared his throat, shuffled his feet against the rug and twisted his now dry hands behind his back. Could he find one word for her? One thing that she was to him, he’d been in love with her since the first moment. But he hadn’t said it to her yet, he wanted his da to understand how he felt, without revealing the true depth of his emotion, though he was certain his father already knew. For a moment his eyes left his da’s and he gazed out the window before bringing them back to meet Brian’s once more.

"She’s everything.“

It was a simple statement, yet it said everything Brian needed to know. They stood, for what seemed like the longest time. Holding eye contact. Both still, neither made a move. Jamie’s feet were planted equidistant, firm and unyielding, his shoulders squared as if awaiting inspection.

Brian grunted and nodded his head.

"I see. Do ye understand, son, what it is to court a lady? To pledge yerself to her, to prove yerself worthy of her affections?”

"Aye, I do. I plan on showing her. I willna stop being worthy of her, da.“

Another nod.

"I know ye will, Jamie lad. Ye know how it was for yer mam and me, how we had to fight, tooth and nail, to show both our families that we were worthy of the other, aye? I dinna think we’ve quite managed it, even now. But I dinna want it to be that way for ye and Claire. We welcomed her here, and that willna change. No matter whether she accepts ye or no’.”

Jamie’s mouth lifted, a small smile of acknowledgement. He knew all the tales of his parents’ elopement, they were grand stories, but he was glad it might be a little easier for him. His brow furrowed, briefly, ‘if’ she would take him, of course.

"Ye ken that’s why I sent ye to Beauly to fetch the whiskey, aye. Ye know how ye feel for the lass. She doesna quite know how she feels about ye, mind. Yer a bonny lad, I’m fair proud of the man ye’ve become, the way yer showing her our ways, and how ye respect her boundaries. But I’ve been watching the both of ye, ken? She needed ye to no’ be around for a while, she needed to ken what it was to be here wi'out ye.“

Jamie’s eyes widened in shock. He’d never considered that Claire might need a separation, he’d assumed his presence would eventually manifest into something more, for her.

”…and…now she kens what she feels…for me?“

He questioned, his shoulders relaxing a little as he swallowed convulsively and stepped, slowly towards his da.

Brian pushed himself off the mantle and made his way over to a small side table close to the settee. He plucked two glasses from the pile and opened the decanter of whiskey, pouring one for each of them.

"I dinna know as to whether she’s one hundred percent clear on the matter, Jamie. But she’s certainly closer to figuring it out. Whether she would admit it or not, she missed ye.”

"She asked about me?“

"Aye, she did. She seemed fair put out that ye werena here, but she wouldna admit it out loud.”

Jamie smiled widely as he took the whiskey from his father and stepped closer to the fire.

"She missed me…“ He whispered in pleasant surprise, as he assumed the place against the mantle, gazing into the flames, the smile lingering on his lips and he sipped the whiskey.

Brian chuckled, as he wondered over to the small chair near to the door.

"I have something for ye, something that ye might like to gi’ to yer Claire…” He picked a small, wrapped package off the seat, holding it tightly between his hands as he walked back over to Jamie.

Jamie’s eyes snapped up from the fire to watch his da. His Claire, he’d called her his.

Brian passed him the packet, neatly wrapped and tied off with string. He tentatively reached out and took it, pulling it close to his chest.

"Make sure ye gi’ her this alone mind, son. It’s verra special, aye?“

Jamie’s mouth fell open, his eyes glossed with unshed tears, he nodded quickly. Placing the empty whiskey glass on the side and gripping the package to his side, he stepped into his father’s now open arms.


	11. Pledges.

Jamie carefully unwrapped the package he’d been carefully cradling under his arm, a medium sized sheet of plaid, perfectly sized for a shawl.

"I kent ye’ve come here, to Scotland, with very little Claire, I thought perhaps ye might need something…extra. To keep ye warm?“

He held it out in his hands to her, as if offering an olive branch.

"Oh, Jamie. It’s…”

The breath caught in her throat at the gesture, much more than simply an extra item of clothing.

"It’s Fraser tartan, Claire. It’ll keep ye warm, and it dries quickly.“

"Thank you, I…it’s perfect.”

"It’s nay bother, I hope ye’ll be happy here, Claire. I’m glad for it, glad that you chose to return with us, aye?“

Nodding her agreement, Claire smiled tentatively at him. So young and yet so mature in himself. She was grateful that she’d had such fortune as to find him right after Uncle Lamb’s death.

"I’ll be seeing you then, mistress”

Changing back to formally addressing her, he smiled shyly before leaving her to her thoughts.

His cheeks flamed red as he allowed himself a fresh breath, she’d accepted it. Accepted his tartan. His family. His home. He fervently hoped that meant she would accept him…in the future.

–

"Where did ye get that tartan, lass?“

Murtagh’s voice rang out down the empty hall, causing Claire to stop stock still.

"Jamie gave it to me…” She whispered, pulling the shawl more tightly around her shoulders, she had a feeling that this conversation might be leading down a serious path.

"…it’s Fraser tartan, is it not?“

"Aye, no’ just any Fraser tartan though, it’s the very same Fraser tartan Brian gave to Ellen on their return to Lallybroch after the gathering where he stole her away. Ye ken what that means do ye?”

Claire swallowed audibly.

"I-I…no?“

She thought she might have an idea about it though. When he’d first given it to her she’d felt it was special, now she was coming to realise that it might have a much deeper meaning altogether.

"The lad’s gone and pledged himself to ye, Claire. If ye go out across Lallybroch wearing it, ye should ken what it means to others out there, aye?”

"Yes…I suppose. Yes.“

She was breathless. A heady mix of surprise and…joy. Her heart was pounding in her chest, almost battering against her rib cage.

"Pledged himself? A-as in…marriage?”

As she’d left Paris, she’d been under the impression that Jamie liked her as more than just a poor orphan with no relatives or property to speak of, but she knew how flippant young men could be with their romantic notions. She hadn’t thought it would develop any further once he returned to his homelands. Surely there were many girls here who would be jumping at the chance to be acquainted with the laird-to-be?

She’d spent so much time, over the last few weeks, settling in and trying to stay out of harms way that she’d failed to notice the subtle hints Jamie had been dropping about his growing feelings for her. Oblivious, she had allowed him to acquaint her with the farm and its workings. He’d quietly followed her on her duties to make sure she hadn’t lost her way, and he had listened patiently as she described her herbs and medicines to him.

All of these memories came flooding back with amazing clarity as she realised that, no, he wasn’t simply being kind. He was courting her!

"Marriage, lass? Nay. It isna that simple. Pledging runs deeper, ken?“

Claire was incapable of a vocal reply, so she nodded, her eyes tearing as Murtagh continued.

"That tartan represents his body, his loyalty and his clan, Claire. He’s a bright lad, wee Jamie. He kens well enough that yer still settling here. He kens that ye dinna want to be seen as needing a man, aye? …but he willna stop showing ye how he’s waiting.”

–

Murtagh had been right, of course. As Claire walked boldly across the acres surrounding the big house wrapped in the tartan plaid, many of those she encountered gave wide eyed looks. Most tried to quickly cover their shock, but they didn’t quite manage it.

By the end of the day, Claire had become self-conscious and had bowed her head as she carried out her chores, rather than make eye contact with anyone. She had blushed the brightest red from the beginning of the day and it showed no signs of ebbing.

Walking back through the kitchen after the sun had set, Jenny, Brian and Ellen, who were busy preparing for supper, looked up abruptly at her arrival. For a good few seconds none of them said anything, all of them stared, enough for it to unnerve her.

"Claire, lass, how was yer day?“ Brian piped up, cutting through the silence.

"Um…yes, it w-was…fine.” She stammered, softly. She certainly didn’t sound fine, but she was determined to continue like nothing was amiss. He smiled widely at her, the soft expression in his eyes calmed her nerves.

"Have you seen Jamie, by any chance?“ She broached, her fingers twitching around the plaid, shoulders shaking, slightly, but her eyes firmly held Brian’s.

"Aye, he’s in the study, Claire.” Taking her by the arm, he led her into the lounge.

Ellen smiled as the pair left, her husband had a big heart, and a definite soft spot for the wee lass.

"Dinna fash, lassie.“ He whispered as he patted her shoulder. "Listen to yer heart, I think ye already ken what ye want, aye. Yer wearing the tartan after all.” He winked, conspiratorially, his eyes alight with mischief.

With that he turned on his heel, and went back to the women in the kitchen, leaving Claire to catch her breath.

–

"Ye’re a wee plotter, Brian Fraser!“ Ellen teased, as he strode back in, a wide smile adorning his face.

"Ye ken what will happen once our wee lassie opens her heart to Jamie, aye! It’ll be the devil to keep them apart!”

"Aye, but ye do remember our first days together, Mrs. Fraser?“ His tone bled with pride as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, peppering light kisses along her hairline.

"They’re sensible, we’ll protect the both of them, and when the time is right…”

He sighed, happily.

"…we’ll make sure they’re properly looked after.“

Jenny, standing aside through this whole performance, tutted, slammed down the knife and promptly left the room, muttering as she went.

"Aye, the devil indeed…”

Ellen stated, worryingly after her eldest.

"She’ll come round, dinna fash too much about it.“

"I hope so, puir Jamie willna be able to cope wi’ two women at him if she doesna.”

The pair were interrupted in their thoughts by the creek of the stairs, both looked upwards, tracing the cautious steps as they navigated their way across the landing above.

–

It had taken Claire some time to gather the courage to take the first step, lost in the murmurs coming from the kitchen, she had told herself she just needed a few moments to collect her thoughts. Although she couldn’t hear the conversation, the gentle sounds that made their way from the kitchen and echoed through the sitting room allowed her to centre herself. The moment not only bought her some calm, but it allowed her to clear her head.

It was only the slamming of the furniture that snapped her out of her haze. Steeling herself, she took the first step towards the study, determined not to waste any more time.

She gripped the bannister with some force, her palms sweaty against the varnished wood. Every step she took, she breathed in deeply, pulling herself along. By the time she’d reached the top, she’d worked herself back into a frenzy. Why was she so nervous? It’s just Jamie, she castigated internally, no need to be afraid.

With that she quickened her pace, moving towards the closed door of the study. Placing her palms flat against the grain, she pushed.

Jamie was sat at his father’s desk, his back to the door.

"I’ll be done in a moment, da! Just finishing up, aye.“

"It’s me, Claire…” Her voice shook a little, low as it was he still heard her and turned. His brows lifted and he smiled at her, teeth glinting in the light of the flame on the desk.

"Ach! Sassenach…“ His eyes, passing over her form in the doorway, caught the plaid draped over her shoulders. His gaze widened as he stopped in his tracks. She had worn it.

"Ye look bonnie, lass.” He said, almost without thinking. His brain finally catching up to his mouth, warned caution, she looked magnificent in it, but he didn’t want to spook her.

At this her hand, now placed on the knob of the door, gripped the metal firmly. Her other hand was wrapped around a small covered item, Jamie noticed.

"Are ye well, Claire? Ye can come in, aye.“

She seemed to stutter a little, but nodded and stepped more fully into the study, closing the door behind her and leaning against it for some manner of moral support.

"I wanted to say thank you…for the plaid. I spoke with Murtagh, about what might be an…um…suitable gift in return?” She posed it as question, unsure as to whether she had received it correctly, even now.

Jamie smiled and pushed himself out of the chair, to stand in front of her.

"Ye didna have to do that, but…“ He extended his hand out to her, inviting her to continue,

”…I willna say I’m no’ pleased by the idea.“

Emboldened by his presence, she took her hand from the door, unwrapped the small package and held it in her palms, placing it towards him, like a peace offering.

It was shield shaped, a brooch, from what he could tell. He stepped closer to take a look. The pattern was fine, an armoured helmet sat at the top centre with two heavily engraved leaves falling from either side. Between those leaves sat a coat of arms. Six crosses, three above the other, and a faint hint of yellow gold and red where there had once been full colour.

"Uncle Lamb left it to me, it’s the Beauchamp crest. I can’t quite remember how long he said it had been in the family, but I think for a good few hundred years. Y-you don’t have to wear it…but…it means a lot, and I’d like for you to have it.”

She hadn’t looked up at him throughout her whole speech, choosing instead to focus on the brooch in her hands. Feeling his eyes on her was enough to lend her the strength to coherently communicate what she needed.

The faint shuffle of his boots against the floor signalled his movement towards her, still she did not look up.

His palm met hers, he radiated warmth, hers having cooled, partially from nerves and partially from the metal of the crest. His carefully plucked it from her, running his pointer finger along the faint creases of her upturned hand as he went.

She shuddered in pleasure, the vibrations of this echoing along the nerves under her skin. An altogether pleasant feeling took root in her belly, but she couldn’t quite give it a name. In her shoes, her toes curled slightly and her fingers twitched. Her eyes now lifted, her mouth opened a little and she licked her lips, absently.

"Claire, mo Sorcha, if course I’ll wear it…“ His voice was breathy and yet serious, Claire’s eyes widened infinitesimally at the tone. His eyes held hers as her fastened the crest to his kilt, just above his waist where the fabric gathered, hanging loosely now aside his hips.

Without thinking, she stepped closer still, lowered her now empty hands, and tucked a lose bit of fabric into his belt. Her head nearly brushing his chest as she did so. He gasped a little, but managed to rein himself in. He so desperately wanted to pull her to him, raise her chin and kiss her, thoroughly.

She swallowed audibly, the blood pumping hard through her body was pulsing in her ears. Her whole body felt alight. Quickly, she pushed herself away, blinking away the feeling of want that was coursing through her veins like fire.

They both stood silent for a moment. The wind whistled through the windows, the wood panels creaked and moaned, but those were the only sounds that filled the room. There was a strange energy springing from the pair, though. It raised the hairs on Jamie’s arms and caused Claire’s fingers to flutter and then jerk, in time, against her palms. Neither blinked, only their shallow breathing was audible.

"Thank you, Claire. Truly”

Their cheeks both flushed, their palms both sweaty, she turned, nodded and swiftly left. Unable to contemplate the consequences if she stayed a moment longer.

Jamie stood stock still, the air disturbed from the opening and closing of the door, wafted around him causing the papers on the desk to shift and the hair around his face to float delicately in the breeze.

–

It had been a long day, and Murtagh was looking forward to falling straight to sleep. He slogged his way from the fields, back to his little cottage, hoping all the way, that Claire had managed to feed herself.

It was late and he hadn’t expected to return to find her awake, but as he entered he found her sat, motionlessly, in front of the still roaring fire.

"How do you know the difference between love and want?“ She whispered into the flames.

"Pardon, Claire…love? Want?”

"Yes. How do you know, I mean, one could easily be fooled into thinking it’s love when it isn’t. How can you be sure?“

She turned now, slightly, the red of the fire casting a luminous glow against her skin. His eyes ran over her, contemplating his answer.

"Weel…I’d say a fair few folk have been enamoured by want. But ye would ken if it wa’. Love, well, Claire, love is a different animal, aye? It takes root in yer bones. I’ve kent it, want…that’s just the tip o’ it all. Yer talking about yerself and young Jamie, lass, aren’t ye?”

"Yes. I gave him the brooch, Murtagh…and I so very nearly k-kissed him…“ She trailed off, unable to voice any more, afraid she’d babble all of her feelings at him in one breath.

"Hmmph…I see.”

He removed his coat and shoes, and made his way over to the high backed chair closest to Claire, as he perched on the edge of the sallow cushion, he placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Trust, Claire. Trust in yer heart, aye?“


	12. The Picnic and The Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to where we sort of began. NSFW.

One drunken evening was all it took for Murtagh to promise Brian that he would take care of Claire, and in turn, Jamie.

That’s what bought him to be leading the pair, on a rare sunny day in Scotland, away from Lallybroch and out onto the outskirts of Broch Tuarach. In their inebriated state, Brian had hinted that Claire and Jamie needed some much needed alone time. But alone time that didn’t allow them to be tempted by the sins of the flesh. The men had laughed, buoyed by fine whiskey and good company. Murtagh had to agree, Jamie had made a concerted effort to make Claire understand his feelings for her, but Claire had been allowed little time to develop her feelings for him.

So, it was suggested that they should be given a reprieve from the duties of the farm, to become better acquainted.

There was a light breeze out, that caught Jamie’s hair every so often, causing it to lift and twinkle a beautiful light red shade. Claire would glance sideways, and marvel at his strong profile, smiling shyly to herself. Jamie would return the glance, but only after she’d looked forward once more.

Before they had left for the day, Jamie had made Murtagh promise that he would steal away for a time, leaving them truly alone. He knew that Claire would have her guard up with an ever watchful chaperone about, if he could get a few minutes with her he was sure she’d relax in his company.

"We’ll settle over yon hill, it’s a fair spot, shaded from the wee breeze that’s blowing. But no’ out of the sunshine. It’s a fine place for us to eat.“ Murtagh mumbled as he slogged ahead with their lunch, allowing Jamie’s hands to be free to brush, only occasionally, against Claire’s. The spark between them only intensifying with every touch of skin, no matter how slight.

"Aye! We’ll be able to see the forest ahead too, it’s bonnie, Claire.” Jamie included, happy to be free to simply enjoy her company.

As they strolled towards their destination, Jamie carefully took hold of Claire’s hand. Her eyes glanced down, a small red tinge colouring her cheeks as she watched their joined palms swing loosely between them. His thumb started rubbing figure of eight patterns against her skin.

"I’m so grateful that we get this time together, Claire.“ He spoke quietly, not worried that Murtagh might overhear, more that he wanted to share his feelings with only Claire.

She smiled, and looked up at him once more. Nodding she squeezed his hand.

"Me too.”

–

Jamie laid out a large plaid blanket for them all as Murtagh began to unpack some of the food.

"Jamie lad, I’m just going to fetch some logs, aye? I promised yer da I’d bring some kindling back. Finish up here will ye. I willna be long.“ Murtagh passed him the packets of wrapped cheese before peeling off his jacket, placing it on the half empty basket and strolling away.

Claire stared after him for a moment, before sitting quietly on the tartan.

"Did you tell him to do that?” She smirked as Jamie finished placing the picnic out in front of them.

He cleared his throat, blushed and sat down next to her. His head still dipped, he licked his dry lips.

"Maybe…I just…I wanted a little time wi’ just you, ken?“

Her fingers reached out, then, to run along the tops of his knuckles. She did know. He was always so incredibly thoughtful. He took time to get to know her, he listened and he seemed to understand what she needed and when.

He leaned in closer to her, his nose close enough that her hair, moving in the breeze, tickled him. She moved her head in his direction, but didn’t stop from watching their intertwined hands.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see his knee twitching, bouncing off the plaid. They sat, in relative silence, as the birds flitted beside them, twittering away to each other.

Jamie raised their joined fingers from the makeshift rug, leaned his arm against hers and started playing with her fingers. She watched him do this, her eyelids becoming heavier with every sweep of his skin over hers. She allowed herself to relax, the sun soaking through her, his gentle touch against her, soothing her. She was breathing, but it seemed her heart had slowed to an incredibly slow pace and her breaths were shallow.

They’d managed to move towards each other, almost without knowing, and now their knees touched. He tilted his head once more, bringing his lips in line with her ear.

“Claire…I want, so many things, but right now…I so verra badly want to kiss you…” His voice, so low his words were almost lost on the breeze, dripped with want. She gripped his hand now, letting her eyes finally close. She nodded. His hand rose a little, bringing hers with it. She wasn’t sure whether he was going to do it, but she waited, not moving.

All of a sudden, the snap of a branch, way closer than comfortable, echoed around them, seeming to reverberate through them. Claire jumped and looked up.

"Put the lass down, Jamie lad!“ Murtagh levelled, but there was a small smile quirking at the corner of his lips. Claire blushed, bright red, and Jamie sat up straight.

"Ye have perfect timing, ye know that Murtagh!” He jested in return, but he was mildly slighted that he hadn’t had time to at least kiss her knuckles, or show her some manner of affection greater than just their touch.

His godfather laughed then, popped the cork on the bottle of whiskey and took a healthy slog.

"Aye, it’s well perfected, wee laddie, never forget.“

–

The clouds had rolled in fairly quickly, it wasn’t the first time the Scottish weather had unexpectedly turned and caught Claire out. This time she had been fortunate, she’d spent the day in the cottage owing to a fever through the night that had kept her in bed until early afternoon.

The sun had beamed through the window all day, taunting her. The perfect weather to be out cultivating her garden, but Murtagh had crossed his arms, shook his head and quirked a brow. That was enough, he didn’t even have to use words, and Claire knew she wasn’t leaving the house for the day.

Now, as the clouds covered the sun, and the rain started pattering against the window, she sat on the sill watching the closest residents return to their homes and their families. Finally, Murtagh flung open the door, shook himself off and shed his wet outer clothes before warming himself by the roaring fire.

Claire’s brow furrowed as she looked back and forth between the living room and the darkening skies outside her window.

"You’re alone?” She called through, confused as to where Jamie could be. Usually him and Murtagh came home together.

"Aye, lass. Wee Jamie stayed to finish the last o’ the clearing up, he sent everyone else awa’, so they wouldna be caught too much by the turn in weather.“

The wind chose that particular moment to rise, throwing a harsh splatter of rain against the glass. Claire jumped and went back to searching for Jamie, surely he couldn’t be too far away?

"I can hear yer brain ticking, lassie! Dinna get any daft ideas, aye. He’ll be back, he willna be in danger, he kens this land and he kens the weather and its quirks.”

She nodded, she had listened, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Lallybroch.

As the hour clicked by, slowly, Claire sat. The weather only worsened. Lightning lit the sky and the distant rumble of thunder crackled on the horizon, taunting her. Still Jamie didn’t appear.

Her hands twitched and scrunched in her lap, she just needed Murtagh to turn his back, she trusted in Jamie, trusted his knowledge. It didn’t stop her from worrying. It didn’t stop her from wanting to go to him, what if he’d gotten into bother?

Her leg bounced, the noise of her foot hitting the floor at a steady pace drowned out by the pounding rain. She watched out of the corner of her eye for Murtagh. If she could only reach the door without him noticing, but the cottage was too small for that, he would certainly catch her and she’d never be able to directly disobey him if he expressed his displeasure in her going out in search of his godson.

–

The little voice in the back of her mind was niggling at her, she knew what she was doing was foolish, but she couldn’t stop. The sun had set, the storm had peaked, and Jamie had yet to return. Murtagh had finally excused himself, off to the big house in search of whiskey and Claire had snuck away, as fast as she could.

The sky lit up, the brightest yellow as the lightning rippled through the low clouds of the night. Claire jumped, the now loud boom of thunder creeping ever closer. She was soaked to the skin, shivering and half lost in the dark. Her eyes, blinded by the stark flashes of light, had yet to readjust to the pitch black and she was forced to stand still until she could see enough to continue, afraid that she might end up in a ditch otherwise.

The wind howled around her making it impossible to hear anything at all. She edged carefully forward, eager to be moving, the longer she stood in the bracing winds, the easier it would be for her to catch her death.

Once more the sky illuminated, Claire used it to her advantage, taking stock of her surroundings, her eyes darted around, she needed to find shelter and quickly. In the distance, the shadow of the barn came into view. She took a breath, having realised she’d been holding it for a while, and staggered towards the promise of dryness at least.

The fury of the weather had struck her to the core, she hadn’t thought it could get any worse, but as she rushed under the large beams of the double storied barn, she realised, finally, how naïve she had been.

Her teeth were chattering as she hugged her arms, tight, around her chest, running her frigid hands against her damp arms. It was no use, the material of her bodice was too wet to dry, especially in the cool, damp air. She’d need to shed some layers in order to warm herself.

Her fingers shook as she unlaced the front of her corset, having already laid her shawl out, and removed some of the pesky layers, including her skirts, now as the laces loosened and the material of the bodice hung delicately against her, the soft cotton of her shift slipped slowly away from her bare skin and began to dry. She was still cold, but the harsh shakes had subsided to leave only shallow jerks now as she gradually thawed.

She felt him before she heard him, the hairs on her arms stood on end, she held her breath and stood facing the entrance to the barn. The air was alive, her fingers tingling with anticipation.

His breath tickled the hairs on the back of her neck as she stood stock still, eyes focused on the lashing rain. His finger finally reached out, he ran it along the outside of her arm, tracing rogue rain droplets across her skin.

"What are ye doing here, Sassenach?“ He whispered into her ear. Her hands, unconsciously, pulled at the fine chords holding the last of her corset. It fell, with a small thump, against the thin layer of straw lying on the floor.

"You didn’t come home, I was worried.” She took his hand then, intertwined their fingers, and pushed them gently under her shift. Just over her heart. He could feel it pounding softly against his palm.

Closing her eyes, she tilted her head back to rest against his chest, allowing his natural warmth to seep through her. Gradually she moved their hands down. Down over the rise of her breast, she held it there, pushing her chest into his open palm with every intake of breath.

Her ear rested snuggly against the steady beat of his heart and he twisted his head so that he could run his nose along her hair line. His thumb slowly twitched against her, her nipple rising under his gentle touch.

"Don’t stop…“ She mumbled, her words running together as she gripped the top of his hand, tight. The sensations rocketing through her body.

He kept his hips away from her, not wanting her to feel how much he desperately ached for her, but she seemed unable to stop her hips from pushing back against him, desperate for some kind of friction. She was unaware, this he could tell, running solely on feeling, letting her body tell her what she needed.

Their near kiss earlier had ignited feelings in both of them that they seemed unable to ignore, twinned with the power of the raging storm outside, it didn’t seem like it would take her long to fully submit to her feelings of want.

Jamie was holding on to his sense of decency by a thread, he’d watched her, shocked at her sudden appearance, as she stumbled, sopping, into the barn. It was as if she’d heard him calling out to her. Then she was stripping off her wet clothes, he’d gone to her with no notion of doing so until he’d reached her. He’d allowed her to put his hand on her, he was just as guilty as her. He too, was allowing his body to dictate his actions.

He gulped in a breath, determined to pull away, but as he did so the sky lit a brilliant blue, thunder followed soon after and she’d turned, he’d found himself face to face with her, their lips met in the middle. Simultaneously moving and connecting at the same time.

For a moment they were lost in a frenzy, hands lost in hair, pulling, pushing, clashing, their tongues met and as the thunder ebbed, they calmed. Claire’s back was against the rough wood to the right of the entrance, her legs slightly parted to allow Jamie close. There was no hiding their want anymore.

Her nimble fingers found his belt, whilst she removed it, he removed his shirt, then they were kissing once more. His hands now tugging at the one last barrier against them.

Her shift, now dry, was the only material left covering either of them. It didn’t take long for them to remove it, his mouth followed a bead of sweat down the column of her neck, the tip of his tongue running softly over her pure white skin, down, further, following the journey of her shift until he found her nipple, she pushed his head, her hand clamped tight in his thick curls, against her as he took her into his mouth, sucking lightly at first as she slackened against him.

"Jamie…” She gasped as she writhed against him, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, her free hand clutching at his back.

The thunder roared, directly overhead now, sending vibrations through the walls, and in turn through Jamie and Claire. He moaned, sending a breath of warm air across the moisture gathering on her breast and she thrust her hips against his in response.

At this he pulled her away from the wall, twisted her round and fell in a tangle of limbs to the floor, onto his crumpled plaid. Her back arched the moment he landed, fully over her, just in time for another bolt of lightning to flicker across the room. Her head was tipped back, eyes closed, mouth open. She was truly beautiful.

"Jamie! I need you…“ She tugged at his hips with her calves, urging him ever closer.

"Please!” He covered her mouth with his own, just in time for the building to shake and vibrate once more. He couldn’t wait either, and pushed his hips against hers, slowly.

Her hands gripped his arse, her hips and thighs shaking, with anticipation and in time with the earth moving beneath her. She felt him against her and shifted so that he was within a hairsbreadth of joining with her, her tongue slowly tracing the inside of his upper lip. They were both trembling against the other, teetering on the edge, both a little timid, waiting for something to help them make the first move.

As the wind rose, howling through the rafters, Claire pushed upwards just as Jamie rolled his hips against her, she quivered slightly, moaned and tensed as he pushed. The slight pain causing the muscles of her legs to clench, she held onto him, her nails marking his skin. He paid no heed, the intense pressure building in him, the feel of her around him, over every inch of skin, curling round him and pulling him down, overwhelming everything else.

Their moans and soft sounds were lost as their kiss seemed to go on forever, their tongues imitating their bodies as they met and parted, their hips subtly dancing as they met, ground against each other and parted.

Sweat covered every inch of their bodies, almost glueing them together. They were both shaking.

Jamie was balanced, precariously, on the edge. Her soft warmth causing his heart to race, his blood to pound through his body and his legs to quiver with the effort of keeping him steady atop of her. But he didn’t want it to end.

With one final almighty bang, the rain hammered down and the sky seemed to darken, the last roll of thunder echoed across the fields, shaking the floor for the last time. Claire shook, Jamie stammered and stumbled, his movements becoming jerky and uneven as he cried out against her. He seemed deathly still for just a moment, and she held him tightly to her, his strength finally giving out as he panted and trembled.

She kissed his damp forehead, running her fingers now through the soft tresses that lay limp on his neck. His chest rose and fell unevenly as he regained some of his composure.

Using what strength he had left, he tilted himself to take her mouth against his. Softly now, wanting to simply taste her in the aftermath. She turned so, now, they lay on their sides facing each other. She pulled the plaid around them and tucked her arms around his back.

"Thu tha bòidheach, mo Sorcha…“

"What did you say?…” She whispered back, after a time, bringing her finger down, along his cheek and lightly running it over his kiss bruised lips.

"Beautiful…“ He murmured, taking her wrist and holding it still so he could kiss the tips of her fingers.

”…ye…are…beautiful. My Claire.“ In his half sedated state, his accent became thicker, rolling his r’s in an accentuated manner. It sent goosebumps along Claire’s arm and down her shoulder. She gazed at him, through droopy lids, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Drunk on each other, they leaned their foreheads together, their noses just about touching. The rain had completely ceased, leaving just a haze of moisture hanging in the air. Still fused together, Jamie and Claire lost themselves in their own haze. Gentle kisses, subtle touches and lethargic movements pulled them under, into an easy sleep.


	13. Claire's News.

“Mam…where’s Claire?”

Jamie walked through the sitting room of Lallybroch’s big house confused, usually she was sat here with his mother when he came back from his work.

"Ach, she’s non so well son, I sent her for a rest. She’s been busy all day, puir lassie.“

Jamie nodded in confused acquiescence. Sick? He hoped it wasn’t something serious.

"I-I’ll just go and fetch something, from upstairs…”

He trailed off pathetically. Ellen knew exactly where he was headed, she let out a brief ‘mhmm…’ and gave her son a knowing look before returning to her sewing.

–

Jamie stopped just outside the room he’s presumed Claire was occupying, standing as close as possible he could hear her voice, whispering lowly to herself.

He should’ve knocked, but something told him just to enter.

She was curled on her side with her back to him, head bent with her arms wrapped around her midsection.

He could barely hear her, he approached cautiously, wary that he didn’t want to disturb her. She seemed so still.

"…I know you can’t hear me…it’ll be alright…has to be…promise…“

His brows drew together in confusion. Moving closer still, he saw her shoulders stiffen, very slightly. She knew he was there.

"It’s only me, Sassenach, dinna fash.”

She seemed to relax at little at his introduction, he took that to mean she was alright with his presence.

"Mam said ye were sick, it isna too bad I hope?“

"No, Jamie. I’m fine now. Thank you.”

She still spoke in a whisper; he couldn’t figure out why she seemed so…off.

"Claire…?“

He walked around the bed, closer to her, as he came round he could see his tartan draped over her stomach, her hands buried under its layers.

”…ye dinna seem fine…“

He knelt down to come level with her, her eyes were open, but she hadn’t looked in his direction yet.

"There’s something amiss, Sassenach, ye can tell me, ye ken that well enough. Who were ye talking too?”

He let his eyes drift over her, making sure he hadn’t missed anything visible, leaving her with her thoughts until she deemed it necessary to tell him. He knew, in her own time, she’d talk to him.

He was so taken with his assessment of her that he missed her hand wiggle free of the tartan and reach out for his. Startled, he jumped a little before allowing her to guide his hand back under the shawl to rest gently against her abdomen.

First his eyes fixed on their jointed, covered hands, then slowly made their way up to look into her eyes. His brow was still scrunched in confusion as she forced his hand to move over her belly.

“Jamie…”

“Claire…?”

They spoke at the same time, Jamie’s eyes still perplexed against Claire’s wide tear filled orbs. She nodded slightly and Jamie gasped in understanding. His hand tightened on hers.

"Ah Dhia!“


	14. The World Anew.

She held her breath for what seemed like the longest time. Her eyes were locked with his as she saw recognition colour them.

“Ah Dhia…”

Oh God, indeed. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, he was well practiced at hiding his thoughts.

She couldn’t take it any longer, the silence flowing between them.

“J-Jamie…I’m sorry…I didn’t…shouldn’t have…”

“Shh, Sassenach….please…”

His hand tightened on hers and she tried to pull it away.

“Dinna, Claire. Dinna move…just a moment.”

Her hand turned, so that now they were palm to palm. Jamie allowed his eyes to close, as he intertwined his fingers with hers and held on for dear life.

The silence stretched on, the only noise filling the room was the sound of their breathing.

Eventually Claire closed her eyes as she tried to contain her tears. She was sure he couldn’t hate the idea, but she had to be prepared to wait for him to make the next move.

“Look at me Claire, mo Sorcha…look at me”

His voice was soft in the silence of the room, but it still seemed to echo off the walls.

Claire took a large breath as she opened her eyes.

What she saw floored her. His eyes were filled with tears…but had the largest grin on his face.

“Oh Claire! Yer really…? I’m going to be…!?”

“Yes. Yes Jamie. I’m pregnant.”

Her voice shook with the effort of maintaining her emotions.

Before she had chance to process any more, Jamie had risen and cocooned her against his chest. All of a sudden she was swathed in his plaid, curled against his chest.

He was sobbing! His chest heaving juddering breaths as she held him together.

“Jamie…oh, Jamie!”

She could just about make out muffled words, but she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.

“W-what…what did you say?” She choked out, into the fabric of his shirt.

“Am pòs thu mi?” He rushed out, forgetting that Claire still had very little Gaelic.

“Marry me, please Claire…marry me?”

–

Her hands were shaking now, gripping his shirt tight, she could barely keep ahold of him. Marriage? Of course, she’d known this was the only course of action. How could they do anything but?

Jamie walked them carefully back to the bed and set her down, lifting her chin, gently, as he pulled slightly away from her.

“Claire, I mean it. You dinna want to leave me now, aye?” He joked, though there was an undercurrent of fear in his words.

She shook her head, fast enough that her curls bounced, eagerly, against her cheeks and neck.

“No. No Jamie, I never…it’s just…you want to marry me?”

“Ye think I’d want anything but, Claire?” His eyes held hers, laced with confusion, surely she knew he’d wanted that for a while, Murtagh had told her so.

“It’s not just because I’m with child?” Her voice was low, but there it was. The fear. She wasn’t scared of marrying him, only that it was simply for the child’s sake.

He kept one hand against her jaw as he used the other to fiddle around in the pocket of his jacket, finally pulling out a ragged piece of cloth. Leaning his forehead against hers, he carefully unwrapped it, as best he could with only one hand, unprepared to let her go even for a moment.

In his palm now sat a small silver ring. The outside interlaced with a thistle design, the inside appeared to have a little writing engraved into it, but her eyes had blurred now with tears, and she was unable to read it.

Jamie tried to keep his hand still, as he held it out for her to see.

“I’ve had this for a wee while, ye ken. I wanted the perfect moment to gi’ it to ye, I was waiting. I want to marry ye, Claire. It isna just for the sake of the bairn, but now, now I ken I can ask ye. Wi’ no doubt in my heart, Claire Beauchamp, will ye marry me?”

She took one look between him, now kneeling in front of her, holding up the ring with one hand and holding her chin in the other, and took a breath.

“Yes. God yes, Jamie. I’ll marry you!” The tears started to run down her cheeks as he, shakily, took the ring and placed it on the third finger of her right hand.

“I ken that the priest is supposed to do this, when we’re wed, but I dinna care to wait, Claire. Will ye wear it now?”

Unable to speak any longer, she nodded and pulled her hand close to her chest, cradling it over her heart. Before she knew it she was enveloped in his embrace once more, Jamie, holding her as close as he was able, allowed himself to finally relax.

“Oh, mo Sorcha! Ye’ve made me the happiest man alive.” She could tell he was trying, desperately, to rein in his emotions, but she couldn’t say the same. Openly sobbing against his chest, she gripped him tight.

“Jamie, I love you.” She whispered against him, not loud enough for anyone to hear but her, with all the revelations today, she wanted to tell him that once the dust had settled on the news of their child and their wedding. She’d wait, for a moment when they were at peace, before openly giving him the words.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Ellen, Brian and Murtagh piled into the small room.

“It’s aboot time, ye pair! So, when are we t’ plan a wedding?” Brian launched, without so much as a breath between words.

“Brian Fraser! Gi’ them a chance, the puir weans havena even had chance to take a gasp o’ air since he asked!” Ellen chuckled, her husbands’ voracious need to start immediately planning their nuptials warming her from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head.

Jamie and Claire had stood, stunned and silent, looking over at the three adults as they bantered between themselves.

“Weel, I fer one think we all need a rather large…celebratory dram!” Murtagh interjected, a goofy smile adorning his whisker covered lips, the heavy beard surrounding his mouth, twitching in amusement.

“Aye! Now that’s something I can get on board wi’. A braw idea, godfather.” Jamie finally spoke up, chuckling as he held Claire’s, now ring laden, fingers in his, running them softly between his own.

“To the kitchen then, I’ve a fair few good whiskeys to choose from!” Brian announced as he led the adults from the room.

Jamie allowed the door to close, just for a moment, wanting to have Claire alone. He pried himself away from her, a little, and lifted her chin so that their eyes met. Both flowing with moisture, as yet unshed, they held each other’s gaze.

“My Claire.”

“M-my Jamie.” They both spoke together, with clarity, though Claire’s sobbing had roughened her voice somewhat.

He wasted no more time, taking her mouth against his as he claimed her as his own. Her tongue swept over the underside of his top lip as his found her bottom one. Moving together, they clasped each other tight, breathing as one. A moment of true intimacy.


	15. Motherly Advice.

Ellen found her son in his room, Claire curled up in his lap, fast asleep under his plaid.

“Puir lassie, she’s had it rough these last few weeks”

She placed her hand gently on the crown of Claire’s head in a motherly gesture. Before sitting on the bed in front of Jamie.

“I just want ye to…understand something, Jamie. I see ye together, Claire and yerself. I kent yer happy as to where things have landed between the pair of ye, as does she. And I ken ye understand what she gave up to come here, aye?”

“That professor, Mam, the one who offered her marriage. He wasna right for her, I kent it in my bones…”

“I ken that son, else ye wouldna have bought her back. We’re Scots, and Fraser’s at that. We’re stubborn…but yer Claire, she’s English bred, aye, the English are as proud as we are stubborn.”

Jamie smiled, humourlessly and nodded as his mother continued.

“Of course Claire didna wish to marry yon professor, but ye also kent that she was promised to him. She kent she’d have to marry him, and though she didna want it, she’d begun to accept her fate, aye? She hadna thought she’d marry for love. The English have their ways, they marry for dowry, for money and position. Ye’ve always seen love, my lad. Now yer responsible for her education in such matters. Aye?”

Jamie’s eyes were wide in understanding.

“Just as Lallybroch is in yer blood and who ye are, that is part of her, the idea that she willna have love. Now she actually has it, she’s struggling to learn how to adapt.”

Claire shifted closer to Jamie in her sleep, his hand slipped over hers as he rubbed it softly, holding her to him.

“She’s a smart lass, she’ll open herself to ye. But it takes time. Her head and her heart are only just about…communicating with each other, aye? But I believe in fate, Jamie lad. Why else do ye now have a bairn on the way and a wedding?”

She smiled cheekily at him and winked before standing.

“Ye’re already showing her the way, keep at it lad. I’m proud of ye, my son.”

She lent over, kissed him gently on the forehead and turned towards the door. As she closed it behind her, she took one last look at her son and the woman who’d claimed his heart, curled together on the chair. His eyes were closed now as he whispered his love for her in Gaelic and she smiled to herself.

“Lord take care of them.” She whispered into the now dark corridor.


	16. You can choose your friends...

Jamie and Claire had finally made it down to the kitchen to catch up with Ellen, Brian and Murtagh, who were all in high spirits, and well into the good whiskey. They cheered, smiled and brought the pair into the warmth of the room. All celebrating.

They were so awash in the glow of Claire and Jamie that they failed to notice Jenny standing in the doorway, shaking her head in horror.

"I suppose this is many happy returns then, aye?“ She stood with her arms crossed, her expression unimpressed.

"Aye, Jenny. It is. Ye’ll be polite about it now, won’t ye?” Brian levelled in return, his tone suggesting no room for argument, but Jenny wasn’t having any of it.

"…and how do ye know she isna taking ye for a fool? When have the English ever been anything other than disrespectful to us? Now, now yer willing to just take one in!“

Claire stood through the entire diatribe, eyes downcast, wrapped in Jamie’s arms. She’d spent her days at Lallybroch avoiding Jamie’s elder sister as much as possible, her vitriol being too much for Claire to cope with on top of everything else. She understood why Jenny was so set against her, she knew that the Scots and the English didn’t see eye to eye, but she’d yet to prove to Jenny that she was anything but honest.

"Jenny, ye need to calm yerself. This is a happy day, ye ken? We willna have you coming in here making it less so. If ye canna say anything pleasant ye’ll be leaving us be, but ye ken yer more than welcome to stay and make merry wi’ us, if ye decide on that path instead.” Ellen, ever the peacemaker, calmly put to her daughter, seeing her face distort and then smooth out again. She had little hope that Jenny would suddenly drop her distaste for Claire and congratulate them, but she had to try.

"Aye, well then. Congratulations…to the both of ye.“ She spat, before turning on her heel and storming away.

Jamie kissed Claire on the forehead, as he held her tight against his chest, he could feel her shaking in his arms. She’d been worried enough about the bairn before Jenny had voiced her displeasure at the occasion. He hoped this wouldn’t set her back.

She pulled away from him, slightly, but took his hand in hers, a gesture of reassurance.

"I should go after her, it’s about time I spoke to her.”

"Ye don’t have to do that, Claire. She’s just worrit, but there is no reason for her to be so set against ye, dinna fash. Stay here, there will be plenty of time to make her see sense.“ Jamie returned, worried that in her anger, Jenny would be hard to bargain with, he didn’t want Claire to be caught up in her ire.

"No, Jamie. Honestly, I think I have some things I need to say to her. I’ll be alright, I promise.”

Jamie smiled, slightly, squeezing her hand, he wasn’t going to pretend he wasn’t scared about how this all might end up, but if Claire was willing to try, he had to let her.

She pushed up onto her tip toes and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"I’ll be back before you know it, enjoy the whiskey.“ She smiled shyly at his parents and Murtagh, before calmly going off in search of an ill tempered Jenny. 

"Good luck to the lass, she’ll need it!” Murtagh interjected, “slàinte!”

"Slàinte!“ They all agreed.

–

Silently, Claire crept through the halls of the big house, peeking her head around every door, simply making sure Jenny hadn’t retired to one of the other rooms before her own, but also giving herself time to figure out what she needed to say to her sister-in-law to be.

She was quickly running out of rooms, her palms were sweaty now, her mouth dry in anticipation of the fight she thought she might have on her hands. Pulling herself together, she moved slowly to Jenny’s door and knocked lightly.

"If ye’ve come here hoping to calm me, ye can give up now!” She heard Jenny growl at the closed door, she wasn’t about to make this easy for her.

"I t-think we should talk, Jenny. It’s me, Claire.“

"Weel, I dinna want to talk to ye! So ye can just go back to wooing my brother and drinking my fathers’ whiskey, go away.”

Claire sighed, heavily. She could just do as she’d been asked and leave, but that wouldn’t solve the issue.

"No, I won’t. We need to resolve this, for everyone’s sake. Please Jenny, just hear me out.“

Silence. Claire took that as a more positive sign and pushed her way into the small room. Jenny was sat at her desk, penning what looked like a letter, Claire didn’t ask she just stood solemnly in the doorway.

"Jenny…I…I don’t know why you hate me so much, but…”

"I dinna hate you, I hate all the English. Always up to no good, always taking our things, causing havoc and then blamin’ us for it! None of ye are any good, and in time, I’m sure yer going to prove yerself false as well! Dinna come in here being all apologetic, Claire. Ye’ve bewitched my brother, taken him under yer spell, what is yer meaning by this?“

Claire’s brows furrowed in confusion. Bewitched? She’d done nothing of the sort!

"I…” She wanted to say love, she loved him. As she did, but she hadn’t been brave enough to tell Jamie that yet and she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell his irate sister it first.

"…Jamie and I, we…there was no magic or mystery, Jenny. It just happened. I’m not here to cause trouble. I was in need, and Jamie and Murtagh helped me. I’m so very grateful to them for that and always will be. But then, what’s between your brother and me, well, it just blossomed. I’m not going to break your trust, I couldn’t. I won’t.“

Jenny had stood now, hands on her hips, eyeing Claire up and down. The look of distrust still adorned her face.

"Listen to me, carefully. Yer a sassenach, an outlander. Ye dinna belong here, and ye certainly dinna belong wi’ Jamie. He’s to be Laird of Broch Tuarach, an important job. He willna be taken seriously wi’ an English bride, ye’d do well to remember that. Why don’t ye do us all a favour and leave now, while there is still a chance?”

"It isn’t just a marriage…“ Claire suddenly blurted out, realising Jenny hadn’t a clue about the baby. ”…I’m pregnant. We…it just happened. Jamie and I, and well, I’m pregnant.“ Her cheeks were flushed, her hands shaking by her sides. Jenny had just told her to leave and she’d bitten back with news of the bairn-to-be.

Jenny’s mouth hung open in shock.

"I’m not here to cause trouble…” Claire’s hands immediately went to her belly, as she rubbed soothing circles over her wee visitor, “…b-but I am staying, no matter how you feel about it. I want to marry Jamie and I want this baby. I’m sorry that I’ve upset you so much.”

She turned then, unwilling to discuss this anymore, and closed the door on her way out. Tears streamed down her face, she didn’t want Jenny to be angry with her, but she wouldn’t avoid her any longer. Especially now, she’d just have to get used to the idea.

Not wanting to rejoin the party downstairs, she made her way over the room Ellen had made up for her once before and curled herself into the high backed chair by the fire. The conversation had left her sad and drained, she just wanted to rest.

–

She must have dozed off, her muscles protested as she uncurled herself from the seat and sat up, blinking sleep out of her eyes.

"Claire?“ She jumped and turned to find Ellen watching her from the other side of the room. "I didna mean to startle ye, only Jamie was worrit after ye didna return. Are ye feeling well?”

"Y-yes, I’m fine. Sorry, I just needed some time to think.“ Claire’s voice was hoarse in her half-sleep as she stretched and stood. "I didn’t mean to make him worry, is he still downstairs?”

"Aye, he is. I think his da and Murtagh are gi'ing him some life lessons.“ Ellen smiled as she perched on the edge of the bed.

"I’m sure.” She smiled, in mirth and slowly walked over to the bed to sit the other side, next to Ellen. “Can I ask you something, please?”

"O’ course ye can, lassie! What is it ye’d like to know?“

"Well, I want to tell Jamie something, in Gaelic. You know, to show him…that I’m serious.” She blushed furiously now, as Ellen took her hand and smiled widely.

"Oh, Claire, my girl. Course I’ll teach ye…anything ye need.“ Though Ellen knew she didn’t need any Gaelic to prove herself to Jamie, she was intrigued as to what Claire might like to say to him.

"Now, what is it ye’d like to know?”


	17. The Valentine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW, written as a valentine's gift <3

Claire was restless. She’d lain in bed, shifting from one side to the next, unable to get back to sleep. As was frequent these days, she’d been dreaming of Jamie. Her body was alive, gooseflesh covered her head to toe.

The dream was still at the forefront of her mind, every time she closed her eyes she could feel his lips against her skin, his hands pulling her hips closer. She could still taste his tongue. Her back arched off the bed, the ache ran bone deep.

She’d heard some of the women of the farm talking of such things, and how they might quell these urges. At the time she’d thought little about it, laughing it off as tall tales from lonely housewives. But now, now she could empathise with them. Her hands itched to hold him close, to feel him against her.

Instead she turned into her side, clenched her fists under the covers, pulled her knees up and curled her toes. Anything to try and relieve the tension in her muscles.

Nothing seemed to work. Her hands slipped between her thighs, still clenched tight. She couldn’t. No, it wasn’t proper. Her mind shut off the possibility, as her fingers twitched against her palms.

She closed her eyes once more, determined to get back to sleep, only to be further haunted by Jamie’s ghost. Her breathing hitched and she had to try and quieten it down, lest Murtagh hear her panting and came to investigate.

Claire turned her head to the side, trying to bury her sounds against the pillow. Her fingers began to uncurl. Men did it, didn’t they? She’d heard the lewd jokes around Broch Tuarach, though obviously not meant for her ears.

Slowly her hips twisted closer, closer, to her hands, her legs parted slightly, her mouth dried at the mere implication of it. But her body had a mind of its own. She wasn’t even sure she could do what the men were discussing, being so different anatomically.

Unconsciously, her hands had seemingly found their goal, and now rested against her exposed crotch, her shift raised by her restless movements.

One move, that was all it would take. Surely that’s what has roused her before, when Jamie had taken her in the barn. The friction from his hips against hers. This image floated through her subconscious as she bucked against her open palm, finding the right places of their own accord.

She only thrust once, then stopped. Her lungs seemed unable to take in enough air to breathe correctly and she lay still for a moment, gulping in as much as she could take.

Her heart was hammering, her lips dry from being parted for so long, and her muscles were taut in anticipation. She couldn’t stop now.

It was hauntingly quiet, of which she was eternally grateful. Every sound echoed around the small room, as she slowly built a steady rhythm. Her breathing coming more easily now as she remembered hers and Jamie’s encounter. Her fingers moved on their own, her hips reflexively joined them. Her whole body felt as if it might burst and shatter apart.

All of a sudden there was a crunch outside, just a short distance away from the window. Her movements stilled as she fought to remain silent. She opened her eyes, and cautiously lifted her head to peer out of the window. In the distance she could see a silhouette, a dark figure surrounded by the slight dimming of black that proceeded the coming of dawn.

Jamie. Her brain replied, it could only be him.

She was up in an instant, not caring even to put on her shoes as she rushed for the door and out into the brisk morning. He must be headed towards the mill, she thought at the last minute as she followed him into the night.

–

Jamie had awoken early, the sun had still to rise but he was too restless to stay in bed. As he left the big house he glanced towards Murtagh’s little cottage, off to the left of Lallybroch, sitting dark in the pre-dawn.

He thought of Claire, tucked up warm in her bed, and smiled to himself as he walked purposefully towards the mill. He could still envisage the pink of her cheeks as she lay asleep, the dying embers of the fire echoing off her translucent skin. He couldn’t wait to have her against him once more, lying still in the heathers of the Scottish Highlands, hopefully.

Soon, she’d be his and he would have no need of memories, he would have the real thing tucked up beside him in his bed. His ears pinked at the thought.

As he reached the small mill at the end of the field, he could hear the water churning through the large waterwheel which adorned the right hand side of the wooden roofed outbuilding. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, a bright orange glow lit the black sky, the water glowed in front of him. Even the birds seemed oddly silent.

He removed his boots, sat at the edge of the river and dipped his toes into its frigid depths.

He was so busy watching the light change across the sky that he failed to realise he was no longer alone. Through the luminous dawn glow, a voice cut through the quiet.

“Tha gaol agam ort…Seamus…” The stunted Gaelic, the soft, English voice. Jamie startled and jumped up from his position, the water splashing loudly against the banks as his feet pulled suddenly away.

She stood, facing him, facing the glare of the rising sun, still shrouded in darkness, but her face lit, gently. Her eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them.

She smiled, shyly, holding out her hand to him.

He felt his face tinge with a blush that steadily made its way over his cheeks, down his neck and across his covered chest. He reached out and took her hand in his.

“Tha gaol agam ort, mo Sorcha.” He whispered in return. He blinked rapidly, taking in every aspect of her face. He had to be dreaming.

She chuckled, the sound carrying across the small void between them.

“I’m here, Jamie. You aren’t dreaming.”

He wasn’t even aware he’s spoken out loud.

“Then…how? The Gaelic?”

“Your mother, she helped me.” She stepped forward, her chest almost neatly fitting against him. He wrapped his arms around her, her face burying itself against his neck. He felt her pepper light kisses along the base of his jaw.

“I love you, Jamie Fraser.” She whispered once more, in English, against the cool of his skin.

“I love you so much.”

–

In the now yellow glow of early morning, Claire pulled Jamie round the side of the mill. Its wooden beams creaking through the thick brick. Pushing him against the wall, she took his mouth against hers.

“Claire…we’ll….we are soon to be…”

He tried to calm her, between kisses, but found he couldn’t even convince himself to stop her.

“I know. But I want you, now…”

She pushed his kilt aside, running her hands up his thighs, the thick wool having kept them warm.

“Claire!” He gasped, squirming to try and move out of her grasp.

“It isna…proper!” His brain, still having part control over his mouth, told him. She didn’t stop her assent. His body was telling her something completely different and she knew it.

“Jamie, please…I need you, I want you. Like you want me.”

He twisted her round so it was her back now pushing against the rough brick, her legs parting as he did so. He now rested fully against her, his hips flush with hers, the only thing keeping them apart being the material of her shift. It was the first time he’d even noticed she wasn’t dressed.

Her hands made the journey around to his bottom, and she gripped, tight.

“Please…” She groaned, “…please, take me, Jamie. Now.”

Unable to resist her pleas. He pushed the fine material of her sleeping garments up and over her hips, exposing her to the frigid air.

“I love you, my Sassenach…ah Dhia!” He moaned as he entered her, watching as her head lolled back against the building, her mouth open and her eyes now shut.

“Love…you…don’t stop…don’t…stop!” She pled, the movement causing her arse to grate almost painfully against the grain of the brickwork.

He silenced her now, his lips pressing to hers, their moans bleeding into each other’s mouths, letting pure pleasure take over them.

Both of them were covered in a light sheen of sweat as they reached climax together, him slumping against her as she panted and held him as close as she could. The sun, now fully up, casting its morning warmth against their exposed skin.

“Yer a sweet temptress, my Claire. Mo Sorcha…” Jamie whispered into the soft skin of her neck.

She smiled, and caressed the damp hair at the base of his skull. Yes, she was, but she had no regrets.

“I love ye, so much. So much that I think I might burst wi’ it.” He panted, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping them both up, but something he was willing to endure for an eternity if it meant keeping her safe.


	18. Plans and Matrimony.

For the first time in weeks Claire had awoken refreshed at the first signs of dawn. The brilliant yellow light fluttered through the windows of hers and Jamie’s rooms, casting a warm glow over the exposed skin of her back. His arms were wrapped tightly around her, cocooning her, their legs jumbled beneath the large quilts.

Jamie himself was still asleep, his eyelids fluttering as if he were still in a dream. She lifted her head and dazedly opened her eyes to watch him, their noses touching slightly.

Shifting her hips, she could feel him, hard against her. She gulped and shifted her hand from around his waist to rest between them, just above his hip, their bodies were already close, but her arm now brought them together even more, in fact there wasn’t much room for her to manoeuvre at all. Despite this, she still managed to wrap her hand around him and make one solid move, up and then back down. Holding him so solidly in her palm that he bucked his hips and moaned lightly, his eyes scrunched tightly shut.

Resting her forehead against his chest now, she shimmied herself into a more comfortable position, giving herself more room to touch him, her strokes becoming lighter, then harder once more. She couldn’t see his face, but guessed by his breathing that he was still somewhat unconscious. A small smile formed on her lips as she considered sliding below the sheets and taking him in her mouth.

But just at that moment, the door creaked open. Claire had her back to it, so she simply stilled her hand and lay as still as she was able, still gripping Jamie, but waiting for this unknown visitor to either make themselves known, or leave. She felt Jamie twist and wrap his hands in her hair as he woke.

"Jenny, what do ye want at this hour?“ His voice was thick with sleep, and wavered as Claire shifted her hand, she hoped she could pull off fake sleep, part of her didn’t want Jenny knowing what had been about to happen before she’d interrupted them, her cheeks flamed at the mere thought, at least she was shielded under the sheets and snuggled up to Jamie’s chest, Jenny would surely guess if she could see her face.

The rumble of his voice was rolling through her bones, her hand was itching to move, a small voice at the back of her mind told her to do it, continue, feign sleep and tease Jamie, after a split second she’d made her choice. She started slowly at first, making soft, cautious strokes along his silky yet hard skin. She listened carefully to him, waiting.

She hadn’t been paying much attention to their conversation, but the moment he swapped from English to Gaelic, she knew she’d taken him under her spell. He tried to pull her closer, to stop her, but she wasn’t about to be subdued. Jenny’s tone had changed, Jamie’s sudden lapse into Gaelic had obviously caught her off guard.

Claire smiled, and sped her pace slightly. The door slammed behind her and in a moment she was on her back, her arms pinned above her head, Jamie suddenly nose to nose with her.

"Yer about to pay for that, ye wee scamp…” He moaned against her lips, before taking his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss, pushing her thighs apart, roughly, with his own, he thrust his hips against her, swallowing her cries with his lips.

–

The herbs forgotten, Claire had taken to spending afternoons either in the kitchens or learning how to darn socks and shirts with Ellen. Since the morning the weather has turned, causing the rain to lash against the windows of Lallybroch, the women had opted to make a big broth for the men, they were certain to come back from the fields cold, wet and hungry. Having chopped all of the required ingredients, Claire was staring off out of the small glass pane, watching the droplets of water cascade over it, enjoying her little bit of peace whilst Ellen had gone off in search of the bigger boiling pot, when Jenny clattered in, throwing a large slab on meat onto the larger of the tables in the room.

Claire paid her no mind, assuming that she’d simply leave once her task was complete, but she didn’t.

"I kent what was going on this morning, Claire, between ye and my brother.“ Her tone was accusatory, it was meant to embarrass her, but Claire was no longer going to allow Jenny the pleasure of being upset by her callous attitude.

"You do, do you? Well, what is between Jamie and I, especially in our rooms, is nothing to do with you.” She managed to keep her voice even, and didn’t even turn to look at her, hoping that her nonchalance would deflate Jenny somewhat.

"Aye, it is, when I’m stood in front of ye.“

Claire shrugged her shoulders and turned slightly, looking at Jenny from the corner of her eye. Her skin was a little flushed, but that was more to do with the baby and the heat of the kitchens than it was a blush of embarrassment. Just as she was about to continue their conversation, her stomach flipped and she felt herself lurch for a bucket. Reaching the fire, grabbing for the nearest bowl, Claire lost herself to the sickness, a slight sheen of sweat covered her brow and she gulped in a breath and held her tummy.

In an instant, Jenny was across the room to join her, holding her hair and rubbing her back lightly. They stayed that way for a few moments as it subsided, the two women together. Once Jenny was sure Claire had emptied the contents of her belly, she took the bowl, passed her a damp cloth from the side and proceeded to clear up the mess.

Claire sat up, resting one hand on her knee as she mopped the perspiration from her forehead.

"Thank you, Jenny. For that. Wee bean seems more active in the early afternoon, I thought it might be easing, the sickness,” She pushed herself from the cold slab floor, placed the cloth back on the table top and turned to face Jenny fully, “maybe it isn’t, yet.”

"Wee bean?“

"Y-yes, that’s what Jamie calls the baby.”

Jenny’s eyes were focused fully on her abdomen now, her eyes curiously alight.

“It suits the bairn, ye dinna want to guess its sex?“

"No, I mean, well, we didn’t think it mattered.”

"Aye, I ken that. Ye will love it, nay matter what. Jamie, he’s smitten wi’ both ye and the…wee bean. Dinna do anything to break that.“ Jenny quirked a brow, a small smile fighting to break its way across her lips as she placed the newly cleaned bowl next to the meat and quietly turned to leave.

"I won’t…I couldn’t…” Claire called after her, causing Jenny to pause for one moment before continuing out of the house. The ice finally broken, Claire went back to stoking the fire in preparation for Ellen’s return.

–

The men finally returned from the errands, damp but in high spirits. Murtagh was telling jokes in Gaelic, they were probably incredibly rude, Claire thought, and Brian and Jamie were chucking along with him.

The women had already sat to supper, Ellen had fetched out some old baby clothes, and was folding them into piles, the ones that were perfect apart from the ones that needed a bit of fixing up. She looked up from her sorting to welcome the men in.

"There’s some broth in the pot, still warm, help yerselves.“ She pointed towards the concoction in question whilst Brian wrapped her in a close hug. Jamie followed suit, gathering Claire up and siting her back down on his lap, she went gladly, curling against his wet chest as he kissed her softly on the forehead.

"You don’t want any supper?” She whispered to him, her fingers softly wiping away the droplets of rainwater that had gathered on his collarbone, just where his shirt opened and his stock lay, sopping wet.

"No’ for the moment, mo Sorcha, I just want to sit here wi’ ye for a wee while.“ His hand came around to curl over her small belly, caressing the tiny bundle that lay beneath the fabric and skin, Claire was enjoying his warmth, and his touch, so much so that she’d completely forgotten that they weren’t alone in the room.

"Ye pair are a sight! All lost in each other, yer going to ha’ to be careful you dinna start swallowing each other, aye!” Murtagh proudly announced, running his hand through his bushy beard as he grasped with the other for the whiskey.

"Weel, ha’ ye told her yet lad, about yer leaving her tomorrow night? Ye had better, else there will be hell to pay!“ He walked behind Jamie and patted him strongly on the back before taking a seat next to him, ladling meat into his mouth.

"Tomorrow night?” Claire was confused, happy to let him go off with the boys, but a little sad that they’d only just been given permission to reside together, and he was being taken from her once more.

"Aye, Murtagh and da have decided I need to be shown the way t’ be a proper husband to ye, they think it requires an evening just wi’ the men. I promise ye, I willna leave ye for long, mam will keep ye good company, my Claire.“ He nuzzled his nose against her neck as he spoke, his breath brushing against the fine hairs that lay in the hollows beneath her jaw.

She sighed, contentedly, and lent to kiss him on the cheek. It would certainly be interesting to see what state he made it home in, surely an evening with just the men of the household would involve a lot of whiskey.

"Talking o’ the upcoming wedding, should we set a date aside? We’ll need some time to prepare things around here afore we end up with a wee bairn running amuck, aye lads?” Ellen interjected, clearing empty bowls and scuffing Murtagh upside the head in a playful gesture. “If yer all about to go causing havoc wi’ alcohol running through yer blood, I want a solid date on the table!”

"Weel, aye. I ken yer going to need time to fix a dress up.“ Brian took one look at his wife and winked, their wedding had been quick, he knew Ellen wanted to take her time and give Claire the ceremony she deserved.

"How does two weeks come Saturday sound? Can ye get all we need in time?” He suggested, grabbing his wife as she strolled passed, causing her to giggle and slap his shoulder. “I doubt we can gi’ it much longer wi’ the bairn beginning to show already, but fourteen days, I think we can do, aye?”

Claire smiled, as Jamie held her impossibly closer. Two weeks it was, and she’d no longer be Claire Beauchamp, but Claire Fraser. She thought of Uncle Lamb then, she’d have to find a way for him to live on if she no longer had his name, but even the thought of being a Fraser, of being tied to Jamie, finally, in matrimony, made her heart skip a beat.


	19. The (Uncoordinated) Stag.

The room was spinning. No, his head was spinning. Maybe it was the room after all? Whichever, he couldn’t work up from down or right from left.

His da and Murtagh had thought it appropriate to take him out to celebrate his upcoming nuptials. At the time, he’d agreed. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He could hear the sounds of retching close by, he was still trying to piece himself back together so had hoped, fervently, that it wasn’t him. It wasn’t until he’d righted himself that he realised they were coming from the next room. Claire.

It all came back to him in an instant. The bairn. Here was he, feeling sorry for his puir liver…and stomach, and more besides. When his poor Claire was suffering the ill effects of his actions also.

He tried to shift himself. He should be by her side.

The earth didn’t seem to like this decision and he flopped, gracelessly, in a massive lump back onto the bed. Luck was not on his side, half of his body, having shifted slightly with his previous movement, was now teetering on the edge of the mattress. Gravity did the rest for him and he landed with a massive thump on the hard wooden floor.

The air left his lungs in a whoosh, causing him to gasp in a lungful to replace it, an “oof” followed as he tried to kneel. Maybe if he kept himself low to the ground he’d be more successful.

The sound of low chuckles echoed around the room.

"Aye, I see how this is. Ye get me in a state, now yer laughing at me, tsk…“

He managed to cough out. Murtagh and his da laughed, louder now. If only his mam and Claire were there, he’d have a full audience to witness his half drunken state.

"Claire…is she…”

"She’s fine lad, yer ma is taking care of her, aye?“ Murtagh chuckled as he tried to assuage Jamie’s fears. He’d be no use to her like this anyhow.

”…should be me though, ken?“

"I think ye’ve done enough for yon lassie, d'ye not think lad! Yer ma says men are the causes of all their problems, I think she might be onto something.” His Da told him, rather cheerfully.

Leaning his head against the cool wood grain of the floor, Jamie took a deep breath. If the room would just stop rotating for a moment…

–

Claire had been asleep for some time, she’d still found it difficult, with Jamie being away, but she was in his bed, surrounded by his scent, so eventually she’d managed it. Well, she had until the door slammed open and she’d jumped out of her skin, shifting herself so she was sitting up she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and turned to see Jamie slumped against the big wooden frame.

"J-Jamie…?“ She questioned, pulling the quilt back over her knees. "What’s the matter? Are you coming to bed?” She shifted over and patted the mattress beside her, quirking her head to the side when he didn’t make a move to come to her.

His head bobbed forward, but his hands seemed to grip tighter against the frame, so tight that the wood shook and groaned under his pressure. His eyes were glassy and a large, shaky smile adorned his lips. He was well and truly drunk. Claire sighed and moved to get out of bed, Jamie obviously needed a little encouragement, and she was the only one around to give it.

"Jamie, are you alright?“ The back of her hand brushed softly against the bristly contours of his cheek, his face turned to meet her touch as he swayed delicately, as much as a six-foot man could.

"Aye! I’m b…” He paused, hiccuping and giggling before continuing on “…b-braw, my sassenach! Mo Sorcha…fair braw, I can tell y-ye!” He flopped forward, losing his balance for a moment, pushing Claire back into their rooms as she stumbled and gripped around his waist in a vain attempt to keep him upright, the sweet scent of Murtagh’s home brew whiskey sweeping over her as she did.

"Jamie, I love you, but you’re quite heavy…please…you’re crushing me…“ He giggled again, a high pitched laughter that rang out down the empty hall, Claire’s legs were wobbling in earnest now, unable to hold him for much longer. Her breath was coming out in pants, as he shuffled his feet and hoisted her over his shoulder, standing straight in one movement. Claire gasped and clung to his shirt, her fingers bunching the fabric as her head lay against his back.

"Ah! My wee sassenach lassie! Ye canna escape me now, I’ve got ye good and proper! Come t’ bed wi’ me…let me show ye how a proper Scotsman beds his woman!” The juddering movements he made as he clambered his way to bed made Claire’s stomach turn, but she held her breath and waited it out, tumbling to the bed as he pulled her off his shoulder and put her down, finally.

She looked up at him, stood over her looking so proud of himself, and sighed. What had his father and Murtagh done to him? His hands now held firm to the bed frame, as he grinned down at her, his shirt hung open, she noticed, his stock completely missing.

"Ye look sae bonnie, sat there…I’m a lucky man. T’ have ye here wi’ me. Ye…ye have such beautiful skin, my own. White as m-milk! And soft…so soft. All the young men of Broch Tuarach are jealous o’ me, aye. When ye came, they all fluttered about ye…but ye didna pay them a bit o’ attention. I kent then, I did, ye see, that I could get ye to love me. When ye shied away from them, and walked wi’ me instead. My bonnie wee thing, ye are.“ He ceased his little speech to belch loudly, causing Claire to chuckle.

"Young master Fraser, you are stinking drunk!” She started to undress him as he stood, gazing at her, his eyes tracing the wayward curls on her head, to the slope of her nose, down her throat to the start of her chest. His fingers twitched, aching to touch her beautiful skin.

"It’s a good job you’re handsome, isn’t it? Now, what horrific amount of alcohol did Murtagh and Brian ‘impart’ onto you, Jamie? Hmm. Must have been quite a lot!“ At this, now naked, he fell forward, face first, into the mattress and lay, arse up, laughing to himself. Claire twisted around, slapped him on the bottom, playfully. He bucked and turned over at her touch, lying flat out, taking up most of the bed.

"Did…I ever tell ye, did I? That ye ha’ the most b-beautiful, amazing…eyelids. Mo Sorcha, ye set my insides alight wi’ em. The skin, so light there. T-the way ye…flutter them at me…”

"Jamie Fraser; you charmer, you.“ She leant over, kissed him softly on the forehead and ran her hand over his exposed chest. "I’ll remember that, eyelids. Any other part of my anatomy you specifically like?”

"E-everything. Yer bonnie arse, that’s a favourite. I can hold it in the palms of my hands, and it’s soft and mine…mine, sassenach. All…mine…“

His eyes had closed, and his hands had raised into the air beside him, as if he were replaying specific moments to himself, she watched him, his fingers moving rhythmically as if they were actually cupping her bottom. He was on the verge of sleep, she could tell, still babbling to himself, partially in English, partially in Gaelic.

"Tomorrow is going to be a long day for you, my lad. Rest easy.”

But Jamie wasn’t quite ready to sleep, thinking of her naked had aroused in him the need to have her, even if his body was sluggish and off balance with the amount of whiskey coursing through him. As she shifted to wrap the covers around him, he struck, throwing her back against the bed and straddling her, his nose brushing against hers as he kissed her as hard as he could.

"Jamie! J-Jamie…careful…“ Claire mouthed against his lips, as he freed her only for an intake of breath. His teeth biting softly her plump bottom lip, the subtle floral taste of the tea she’d consumed with his mother still lingering there, he calmed himself then, and lifted his hips off hers, his heart pounding and his eyes wide.

"I’m sorry, my Claire. Ye just looked sae bonnie laying here, and in my head ye were wi'out clothes, flushed head to toe and waiting for me…I couldna stop myself, ken? I’m sorry…sorry…” He rested his forehead, now, against hers and simply breathed her in. Sensing a little distress, Claire used her toes to massage his calves, causing the stiff hairs there to rise at her ministrations. Her hands ran along the damp skin of his neck, the previous exhortations having caused him to become incredibly warm.

"Shh, Jamie, don’t worry. No need to be sorry, it’s ok, I love you too. So much. Even your eyelids.“ This caused him to laugh, hard enough that he fell to the side clutching his sides, Claire turned and watched him, her eyes filled with tears. Even drunk as he was, he couldn’t help but make her feel special. Every inch of her.

Through crinkled, laughter filled eyes, he watched her, her head rested on her palm, the long curls fighting to fall through the gaps in her fingers, the subtle shift of her sleeping garments as they slid off her shoulder, the one closest to the bed. Fatigue washed over him, his eyes closed, the image of her stained on his lids, his lips tipped up in a smile as he fell asleep, dreaming of her.

–

Ellen poked her head around Jamie’s door, heading the commotion, hearing Brian and Murtagh laughing, she had to see what the fuss was about. Seeing Jamie in a wee ball, she couldn’t help but chortle out loud, what a state he looked. Puir boy.

"Now now boys! I have a wee dram for young Jamie, and hopefully something to still Claire’s belly, and we must leave them be! Yer a pair of scoundrels, getting my youngest so drunk he canna stand the next day! Brian Fraser, ye fiend…and then laughing at the puir laddie after, dinna be getting in the way, go and get him a drop of liquor from the lounge!” She shooed her husband away before leaving to bring Claire back to her bed.

Jamie sat, still awash in the previous evenings memories, counting the grains in the wood floor panels, his head felt more even now and his tummy had finally stopped swishing. He hoped he’d be able to stand soon; his bed was calling him. The air around him shifted, and he glanced up to see Claire’s smiling face dangling over the side of the bed, her cheeks flushed, probably from the sickness, but she looked glorious none the less. His face lit up on seeing her, and he clambered across the remaining stretch of floor to meet her, his hand reaching up to tuck her stray curls behind her ear.

"How are ye, mo ghràidh? Better now?“

"Better now, after your mother gave me some herb tea.” Her hand came to hold his, still against her cheek.

"I think ye need some rest, aye? My mam was right about that.“

”…and you, I think you need some recovery time, eh!“ He chuckled as he pulled himself up and she shifted in order for him to lay next to her, both still atop the sheets, happy to simply be in each other’s company for the moment.

"Aye, I think da and Murtagh will help wi’ the chores so we can have a wee nap together, how about that?”

"I think I’d like that…verra much!“ She giggled as she imitated, poorly, her impression of 'drunk Jamie’. He shook his head and wrapped his arms around her, dragging her close to his side. He’d make a Scot of her yet, but first, he needed to sleep off his almighty hangover.


	20. Night-Time Visitations.

Claire had fallen into a deep slumber, assisted by her participation in all of the last minute wedding details. She’d spent the day being pulled from pillar to post, firstly by Ellen, then by Jenny and lastly by Murtagh, much to her surprise. He’d been given the task of assisting with the wedding dress. Claire had been utterly floored by what he’d come up with, he had wanted her to be his to give away, so he’d added a small sash of his own tartan and explained to Claire that Jamie would add his during the ceremony.

She was already feeling incredibly touched by all of the support she’d received, but this sent her over the edge. She was sat on the small lounge chair when he’d brought the dress in, and she’d immediately broken down into wracking sobs. Poor Murtagh had no idea how to deal with it, he’d poured her a wee dram, patted her on the back and moved to stoke the fire. This, at least, made her giggle and calmed the flow of tears.

She smiled, in her sleep, and pulled the pillow closer. She’d been so fortunate to find such a wonderful family to take her in, a wonderful husband-to-be who would take care of her and the baby, and a stable place to settle.

A creek of the floorboards made her twitch and shift, her eyebrows furrowing at the noise, but she didn’t fully rouse. Her hands gripped the sheets as her breathing deepened. Jamie watched her, cautiously moving over to the side of the bed, he was sure he hadn’t woken her, so he knelt, carefully, beside her and brushed a loose curl off her brow.

Her face smoothed out once more, calmed by his touch, a whisper of his name on her tongue as she shimmied closer to him, still unconscious, her fingers clenching tighter against the fabric. He ached to kiss her but was still unsure as to whether he wanted to wake her or not, in two minds he licked his lips and laid his head in his arms as he watched her, silently.

"Ah, mo Sorcha, I couldna sleep wi'out seeing you, just once. Ye look sae bonnie all nestled in yer bed, yer wee curls straying across the linens.“ His breath fanned across her face as he spoke, in hushed tones, his eyes closing briefly, him being just as tired as she was, but willing to fight it for a moment, just to be with her.

Claire, skimming the line of consciousness, flexed and reached out for him, unsure as to whether she was dreaming or not.

"Come to bed, Jamie, lay with me…c'mon…” She tugged at his wrist, begging him to simply slip under the sheets and melt away with her. He quickly removed his shirt and kilt before obeying, sliding to her side as she curled around him. His lips met hers the moment she was settled, sleepily moving against one another, their tongues lazily touching, tasting, as if for the first time. She smelt of faint woodsmoke, the distinct ashes of the stoked fire embedded into her, like she was made from the forest itself and she was destined to burn him alive. His hands tugged at her shift as she gently rolled her hips up, allowing him to move it up and over her bottom to rest just atop her stomach.

They seemed to stay that way forever, simply kissing, but Claire soon became restless, rocking against him ever so slowly, her fluid movements sending the most delicious shudders down Jamie’s spine. Every swell of her against him, spoke such powerful words to his body, calling him to take her. He wasn’t even sure how lucid she was, but it didn’t matter now, he knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her, especially when she was like this. Half enveloped in lust, she’d tug at him in the most delicious ways until he fell into the void of her.

She’d started to whisper to him. Her lips would part, slightly, her tongue would taste his mouth, the gentle caress beckoning him, ensnaring him, until he’d nip at her and swallow her cries of his name. They had rolled over now, his elbows holding his weight over her, she’d still to open her eyes, so he knew she was lost to his touch.

He took one, sleepy, glance at her before allowing himself to slip into her orbit, her thighs, shaking with need, clenched against the outside of his legs. The subtle tang of heat in the air clung to them as they pulled and pushed against each other, her hands lost in the plumes of curls at the base of his neck, his head buried in the cleft between her chin and her chest, as he writhed and moaned, the sweetness of her sweat coating every inch of him.

His eyelashes fluttered against the taut skin that stretched across her clavicle, causing her to buck and moan, his name falling like a prayer from her mouth. He responded, gasping her name as he lifted his head to taste her once more. A slight shift of her hips, and his were flush with hers, a sloppy sound echoed around the room causing him to twitch and cry out, her belly clenching at his sporadic thrusts, their hearts pounding as one, a rhythmic drumming that seemed to fill the air around them as they panted and clung to one another, the scent of sex and sleep whirling around them in the dust motes.

–

They lay together for a small time afterwards, Claire still dazedly half awake, Jamie covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, his and hers, and not at all asleep.

"Tha gaol agam ort, a ghràidh. Soon yer to be my bride, my Claire. Mrs. Fraser…and the bairn too, I canna wait to be a father, to call ye both mine. I’ve been waiting since the moment I first met ye, I’d have been willing to do more than I possibly should to have ye come wi’ us from France, but ye came, more easily than I thought ye might. I kent then that I could woo ye, to make ye mine. It’s fate, Sorcha, ye and me, fate.“

"I know, Jamie. I love you. My Jamie…stay with me? Please…” She’d reached up, her palm leaving its place across his exposed hip, to rub along his jaw, the short spikes of his stubble tickling her sensitive skin. She smiled, her eyes only half open, only half aware of her surroundings, and locked herself around him.

"I canna, sassenach. Ye ken I must go back; I’ll see ye soon. I’ll be the one in the fancy kilt, aye?“ He chuckled as he detangled himself, her tired muscles unable to keep him trapped beside her. "Dream of me, my love, and I’ll be with ye forever more from tomorrow. Sleep now, Sorcha, sleep.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice, as he quietly redressed himself and crept away, picking his boots from beside the door, she’d already fallen back into a deep slumber. Before leaving her, he took one last look over his shoulder at Claire Beauchamp, the next time he saw her, she’d be in the midst of becoming Claire Fraser. His eyes softened, as his lips formed a wide smile, the universe had aligned correctly, and everything was as it should be. They were together, and it was meant to be.


	21. The Wedding.

The hum of the party outside was slowly dying down, the bonfire the tenants of Lallybroch had started was going out and the inebriated folk were gradually trickling away, back to their homes.

Murtagh stood watch over his little cottage, him and Jenny had decorated it as best they could for the newlyweds. Flowers adorned the windows, candles were scattered over various furnishings and the fire had been lit. They had given strict instructions to as many as possible that the homestead was out of bounds. The laird-to-be and his bride would have at least a couple of days to themselves.

In the dim moonlight he could see echoes of the pair as they started to relax for the evening. It had been an incredibly busy day.

He was sure Claire had been whisked from her bed in the early hours of the morning to be dressed and brushed and cleaned and prepped. The wee bairn was just starting to show, but, to the untrained eye she looked the regular blushing bride.

Ellen and Brian had taken their newest daughter under their wing over the weeks leading up to the ceremony. Making her know she was wanted and loved. Claire had felt adrift when she had first realised she was with child, afraid that she would be cast aside. Ellen knew all too well what that felt like and immediately quashed those fears, no young lady should ever feel that fear and she was determined to make sure Claire knew where her home was.

Brian and Murtagh had taken every opportunity to coach Jamie in as many things as they possibly could. From impending fatherhood, to husbandly duties and even what might be expected of him behind closed doors. He had blushed furiously at this and tried desperately to brush off his father and godfather, stating that he was perfectly capable of learning as he went. However, Brian and Murtagh wouldn’t let it go and eventually managed to get him to listen. He had glowed red the entire time, but now, watching their shadows dance along the walls, Murtagh believed Jamie would finally feel the benefit of their lessons, unbeknownst to him, of course, that the pair had been conducting experiments of their own.

–

Claire had stayed separate from Jamie for the night, as was proper. She’d woken, rubbed her eyes and felt around for him, believing her late night visit to have been a dream. As she moved to get up for the day ahead, the telltale dampness between her legs made her gasp in shock. She hadn’t dreamt it! He’d actually snuck into her rooms, her cheeks flamed red at the thought, as a small smile crept across her lips. She’d been so out of it that she hadn’t even thought it to be real.

She’d have to get a move on though, sitting basking in the afterglow of him wouldn’t get her ready, and she was sure it wouldn’t be long before Jenny or Ellen came looking for her. The birds had already been awake for some time, chirping away outside her window, keeping her company for a time. The sun was still low in the sky, but she could tell the morning was getting on.

Sighing in contentment, she bathed in the small tub of water left by the fire, making sure to relax a little whilst she was still alone. She scrubbed clean her legs, her under arms and neck but took extra special care over her belly, rubbing rhythmic circles over her little visitor. Speaking in hushed tones as she spoke about how much it was loved and cherished, how much it was part of a complete family, and how it’s daddy would take such good care of them. Her morning sickness had abated now, thank goodness, so she was able to eat with everyone else in the morning and also go back to attending to her little herb garden.

When she’d finished, she brushed out her hair, as best as she was able alone, and started to put on her undergarments. She was surprised she’d been left alone for so long, she’d have to go in search of everyone if they didn’t come with her dress sometime soon. She knew Murtagh had promised her some last minute adjustments on it, but had presumed those would all be carried out before the day itself.

She sat on the bed now, having put her shift on, her hands clasped tight around her abdomen, breathing in and out, calming herself. She wasn’t nervous about being tied to Jamie, that part she was extremely excited about. In truth she was worried about why she’d been left to herself for so long. Where was everyone? Part of her said she should go in search of them all, but the other part convinced her to stay put.

Some time later she heard voices, the echoes rattled down the halls of the big house, she could tell one of them was Ellen. The swishing of fabric against the floor made her think that the dress was on its way. She let out a breath of relief as she leaned back on her hands against the mattress. Finally. She was nervous, to be sure, but also extremely excited, she was about to become Mrs. Fraser, in a few short hours she would Jamie’s wife.

Ellen and Jenny walked in to find Claire sitting with the biggest grin on her face, she was positively glowing. It made Ellen’s face light up on seeing it, placing her hand on her heart she placed the dress over the high backed chair by the window.

"Are ye ready for yer transformation, our Claire? I’m sure ye canna wait to get yerself down to wee Jamie, from what Brian says, he’s positively vibrating wi’ joy!“

Claire turned, smiling up at the two ladies, "Yes, yes I am.” She rose from her position on the bed and faced them fully, her hands gingerly holding her small belly, ready to face the next part of the day.

–

Jamie was pacing the floor in Murtagh’s living room, time seemed to have slowed to a ridiculously slow pace, he was sure it may have stopped completely. His hands twisted nervously at his stock, his knees jiggling uneasily as he watched his father and Murtagh, sighing in good humour to themselves.

"Ye’ll be wearing my floor out, Jamie lad. Calm yerself. It’s nearly time.“ They were all dressed and pressed. Jamie in his full Fraser tartan, the ruffled plaid draped over his shoulder and ran down to his belt, held together with his fathers’ brooch, which shone nicely in the sun. He was quite the picture, tall and bold, the greens and reds of the kilt stranding stark in contract to his dowdy normal one, which was thankfully nowhere to be seen. His hair had been combed through, the usually unruly curls tamed with a wee bit of grease.

"When are ye to go and fetch her down, Murtagh?” He returned, not paying attention to their jesting, his eyes eager.

"Ye ken it’s midday, wee laddie. Like we said, yer mam wanted Father MacKinnon to be the one to marry ye both, and he has t’ come from Cranesmuir. It’s the soonest he could get here today, and he’s already arriving earlier than he should. So just have a wee dram, calm yer nerves and relax. Our Claire isna going to run off in that time!“ He clinked his glass with Brian’s, as the two men smiled to one another.

–

Jenny had readied Claire’s hair, whilst Ellen had brushed a few rogue hairs from the dress, they’d then both assisted in getting her into it. The fabric swished around her, the air stirred by the three women twisting and turning, tying laces and straightening out the mass of skirt attached to the bodice. It was a painstaking job, tying the corset alone took both Ellen and Jenny’s full attention. By the time they had it fully on, Claire was shattered. She drooped, holding onto the bedstead to keep her upright.

"I don’t suppose I could sit?”

"I dinna think so, lass, sorry. The skirts willna allow for it. No’ too much longer though, aye, if ye can bare it. Only a few minutes and Murtagh will be here, why don’t ye have something to drink?“ Ellen passed her a small glass of whiskey, hoping that would give her a little strength. She knew once she was on her way to Jamie she’d forget all about her tired legs, a small smile crept along her lips at the thought.

"Ye need some more bread or crackers, Claire. That’ll still yer belly for a wee while too.” Jenny approached cautiously, passing her the dry snack. The girls had put aside their differences in the run up to the wedding, choosing instead to work together in silence. It had calmed Claire’s fears, she knew once her and Jamie were tired to one another Jenny would start to warm to the idea, she just had to bide her time. It seemed her plan was working and she took the food gratefully, munching as she swallowed the wee dram.

A small knock signaled Murtagh’s arrival and Ellen and Jenny made themselves quickly scarce. He walked in with some trepidation, it seemed like only moments ago he and Jamie were bringing Claire home, and now here she was, standing tall and proud in her room at Lallybroch. The dress looked magnificent, and he blushed as he remembered his involvement in it. He couldn’t quite believe his wee bit of tartan could look so splendid hiding in the folds between the off-cream patterns of her skirts. The bright green lines reflecting, just slightly, so as she moved they would make themselves seen. She looked truly beautiful. Her tiny wee bairn hidden behind the tight pull of the corset, he could tell it was a little uncomfortable for her, but she was a brave lassie, and would take it all in her stride.

"Are ye ready to go t’ yer groom, Claire lass?“ She’d stood quietly as she’d allowed him to take her all in, her empty hands now buried in the lose material of her skirt.

"Yes, I am. Are you ready?” She chuckled as she teased him, her fingers twitching, the ring finger on her right hand felt so bare. It was in that moment that she took her first steps forward, aware that it was certainly time to go and take her place by Jamie’s side.

Murtagh held out his palms for her, and she took them gladly. He pulled her forward, and interlinked his left arm with her right, taking her solidly against his side. She could smell the faint scent of some form of perfume, it made her laugh, quietly to herself. He had really made such an effort. His stock was bright white against the deep browns and dark auburns that settled through his bushy beard, his kilt was flat and luminous, the slight red lines that ran through the greens and browns almost glowing in the dim light of the hall. Looking at him now, it was almost unbelievable that he hadn’t found himself a decent wife. She dipped her head at the thought, and was glad that at least he was surrounded by family.

In no time at all they were approaching the large side door, adorned with two large flaming candles, the scent of them lingering in the doorway, Claire stepped out into the midday sun. Her eyes took a moment to adjust as they turned and walked with purpose towards the arch that welcomed you to Lallybroch. Her eyes widened, Jamie was standing, side on, looking at her but desperately trying to face forward, patiently. They locked eyes, both holding their breathes as she stepped closer and closer, until they were side by side.

The arch itself was covered in blossoming flowers, the purples, pinks and reds flourishing against the grey brick. The roses matched Claire’s flushed skin, her whole face alight as she tried to take in as much of her groom-to-be as possible. Her stomach flipped, he was truly beautiful. Her mind tossed and turned, it was possibly not the correct word to describe the dashing highlander stood in front of her, but it was the only one to spring to mind at that moment. He was absolutely magnificent. The deep blue of his satin coat glimmered in the sunshine, mirroring the depth of his eyes which were filled with moisture.

He took her hands, aware that she was utterly overwhelmed. Her palms were clammy and she was shaking a little, but the moment he touched her, she yielded to him. Her heart slowed and she, all at once, seemed to come back to herself. He swallowed, gripped her fingers, and mouthed ‘I love you’ to her. His Claire, his Sorcha. She was otherworldly in the wedding dress his godfather had commissioned for her, and paid for from his own coin. The creams mirrored the milky tones of her skin, the floral embroidery that flowed down the front of the bodice, tinted pink, matched her cheeks, and the whiskey tones woven through the tops of the skirts mirrored her magnificent eyes. She was a picture, he hoped he’d be able to remember this moment for the rest of his life, and tried to imprint the vision of her into his mind.

The priest began the service, and all at once they seemed to be married. Claire wasn’t even really aware she’d spoken, but she must have done. The blood vow was performed, their wrists slit ever so slightly and their blood mingled, forever tied to each other. Their rings were placed on the appropriate fingers and his lips were against hers, sealing the service and her commitment to him. She clung to him as they turned to face their audience, arm in arm, her head leaning against his shoulder has he propped her up. Claire didn’t even get chance to look at her new family, her eyes were clouded and focused solely on Jamie, tears streamed down her cheeks. She seemed unable to gain control of her quickly blurring vision, and her chest heaved with the effort of all the emotion building within her.

Jamie’s smile was the most radiant thing she’d ever seen; their eyes never left each other’s as they walked forward to greet his parents. Ellen grabbed hold of them both, keeping them joined but firmly holding them in her arms. She whispered something in Gaelic to Jamie. Claire didn’t grasp it, but he seemed to smile wider, if that was possible, and she knew she was home.

–

Murtagh couldn’t help the tears that sprung into his eyes, unbidden. They’d danced and filled themselves full on the pig that the MacKenzie’s had sent across as a wedding gift. There had been so much joy that every guest had more than eaten their fill. As the sun had dipped behind the clouds, Brian had lit the massive bonfire they’d set up the day previously, and the merriment had continued. Jamie hadn’t let Claire go, even for a moment, and it had warmed his heart to see how he cared for her. Their day had gone off without a hitch, and now they had been left to recover and learn each other as man and wife.

He sighed, wiped his eyes and turned, seeing Jenny standing in the glow of the embers of the slowly dwindling fire. Ian Murray had returned from his adventures in France, finally, and she’d been quite taken with his company for most of the night.

"Ye seem content, Murtagh. Ye ken that they’ll be happy together?“

"Aye, lass. I do. I kent it from the first time I saw Jamie set eyes on her. I also ken that yer still nervous o’ her. Dinna be. She’s had a hard time of it, falling in love wi’ wee Jamie aside, she’s had to learn how to live a different life wi'out the comforts she was used to. If ye only had yer da, mam or Jamie, and then ye lost them, ye’d be worrit too, aye? Now is the time to let go of yer fears towards her, let her be. She’s pure of heart, and she loves Jamie fiercely.”

"Aye, I trust ye.“ She still held a hint of unease in her gaze, but she’d managed to push out most of the doubt and rest her tongue on such matters. Murtagh had faith that she’d mature on the matter. Maybe once she settled herself, she’d see just what Jamie and Claire held for each other, it was hard to understand the concept of love when you had yet to experience it. He shook his head and strode over to his goddaughter, wrapping his arm around her, pulling Jenny close to his side.

"Now! Let’s go and hunt out yer da’s best whiskey, aye! I think we’ve earned a dram after our skill at producing the perfect honeymoon suite for our beloveds!” He winked and pulled her towards the big house, taking one final look over his shoulder, the shadows of the lovers having now retreated to places unknown.


	22. The Honeymoon - Part 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr: http://mybeautifuldecay.tumblr.com/post/142124254722/a-port-in-the-storm-part-21

“…come on, my Sassenach. Tell me, aye?”

The fire chose that precise moment to spark and throw a burst of amber light over an already glowing Claire.

“I…well, I don’t think I can explain it.”

Jamie smiled at her attempts to dodge the question. Still, he pressed forward, running his fingers along the length of her.

They had fallen asleep wrapped in each other’s arms beside the roaring fire, too fatigued to even crawl into bed. Now, as the sun rose and threw speckled hints of red throughout the room, they lay still locked together, warming each other with subtle touches.

“Ye can, go on…”

At his urging she closed her eyes, allowing herself to indulge in his fingertips brushing over her delicate skin, and tried to rouse the emotions she’d felt through the night. She felt him stir beside her.

“Does…that hurt, you know? When that happens…”

He was tempted to move his hips away from her, but she was so warm and pliant that he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“No, it doesna hurt. It…aches, ye ken? But no’ in a bad way. Just that sort of ache that bids me to touch ye, to kiss ye, to have my hands and lips in as many places as I can reach. It makes me need ye, badly, Sorcha. I feel…like if I dinna get close as I can to ye I might die, ken?”

“That bad…?”

Her voice was low and breathy. He chuckled as he watched her, sleepily.

“Aye, that first time. Aye. If no’ die, shatter into pieces of want for sure.”

“Yes”

She certainly knew that feeling. The dance he was playing across her skin was causing all sorts of want within her.

“It’s the s-same…for me. When you touch me…like this, when you kiss me, I feel…alive.”

Gooseflesh was rising down every inch of her that Jamie touched and he smiled as she appeared to lose the ability to speak.

“I…feel…so much. All at the same time. I didn’t even know it was possible. That night. The night in the barn. I just needed you so badly, I couldn’t even think. I knew we shouldn’t, but then you were there. I needed you, I…ached too…”

“Aye, I could tell ye did. I was glad for it, even though I kent it was wrong, ye know, us not being wed. But I couldna stop myself, and ye…ye too, so I didna stop.”

Through their exchange they had shifted closer and closer to one another, now there was barely any room between them, Claire’s eyes held Jamie’s as her leg carefully and slowly slid up his and rested, anchored around his hip.

“Tell me…tell me what it feels like for ye, Claire. When I take ye like that…please, I want to ken how ye feel when ye lie wi’ me.”

“Oh-alright. Well, it starts slowly. The first time…during the storm…it h-hurt a little, you know, because I’d never…done it before. But then…then, my skin felt as if it were alight. Like I couldn’t get close enough to you, although you were as close as you could be. Every time you moved away from me I felt the need to pull you back.”

He ran his hands down now, along her exposed side, across her hip and around to settle on her bottom. Pulling her as close as he possibly could, cradling her arse in his hand he kissed her, thoroughly. His tongue swept across her lips, before she allowed him to deepen it.

“Aye, tell me more mo chridhe…please…”

“What does that mean?”

She’d heard all manner of Gaelic since arriving in Lallybroch, but she couldn’t remember ever hearing this one. He smiled and kissed her once more.

“Ye tell me more, and I’ll tell ye what it means.”

“I can’t talk when you’re touching me like this, Jamie…I can’t…”

Punctuating each word with a subtle shift of her hips against his to show her meaning, he groaned lightly and nodded. He understood, he was getting to that stage of intimacy where words couldn’t be formed.

“It’s powerful…it builds within me…it…starts, Jamie, don’t stop, please…”

He peppered her neck and collarbone with caresses, causing her whole body to shudder.

“…it starts softly. Then it’s not soft at all. It-it’s consuming…enflaming…oh God…it’s…fire…m-my…in my belly…l-lower…hot. S-shivers. But good. S-so good…yes…”

“Aye…”

“T-then…it feels like…like a…a-all…like my body has shattered into a h-hundred…or more pieces. I w-was flying…shaking. Still aching. But…in a good way. M-my limbs all…pounding…along…with my heartbeat…m-my skin..Jamie…”

With one move they locked together once more, Claire had no more coherent words to say but Jamie no longer needed them, her body was telling him all he needed to know.

–

She awoke some time later. The sun, now high in the sky, threw powerful yellow rays over them both. She turned to look at Jamie, still fast asleep beside her. She smiled, he looked so content. His hair, all billowed out atop his head, random curls poking up out of the mass. He looked so young, precious, she didn’t wish to wake him.

Instead she chose to rise alone, covering him in the plaid they’d been using as a blanket. There were fresh bannocks waiting for them, some meat and cheese and a fresh bottle of whiskey. Murtagh had been so thoughtful! Pottering about, Claire found herself humming as she prepared them a small breakfast cum lunch, twirling around the small area of the room reserved as a preparation cove for food. She hadn’t bothered to cover herself, not fearing intrusion by anyone other than Jamie, and she didn’t fear him seeing her unclothed. Her cheeks pinked at the thought, she didn’t think she’d ever be as completely uninhibited as he was in the nude, but she’d certainly become more accustomed to it. He didn’t seem ashamed in anyway about walking around with nothing on save a smile.

So in her head was she, that she didn’t notice Jamie creeping up behind her. He stood, for a time, simply watching her. Her hips were widening with the growth of their child, her bonnie arse too. She only became more beautiful to him. The small bump looked more pronounced now, her being completely naked. He’d never seen her this way, and it warmed his heart. His little family, wee bean growing every day. She twisted a little, as she plated up the bread, her sleep-squashed curls falling over her shoulder as she did so. He couldn’t help but reach over and run his fingers over the soft arches of them. Claire stilled but didn’t jump, instead she simply closed her eyes and sighed out a breath of happiness.

“I didn’t want to wake you, you looked so happy sleeping over there.” He stepped closer as she spoke, running his hands over her neck, now. “I was just making us something to eat, are you hungry?”

“Aye, in many ways Mo Sorcha, no’ just fer food…” His voice was low, deeper than usual, sultry, it made her toes curl. The vibrations as he spoke seemed to run through him and along her spine. “…bring it back to the fire, Claire.” He tugged, gently, as he turned. She followed, her gaze locked with his as she went.

Placing the food on the small table, Claire sat on the floor with her back against the small sofa, right next to Jamie. They started eating in companionable silence, subtly touching each other as often as possible whilst trying to fill their bellies. Claire knew it wouldn’t be long, if she didn’t eat, before wee bean would make itself known. She could calm the sickness if she had something in her tummy, so she ate. She could tell by how slowly Jamie munched on his cheese, that he was desperate to be touching her once more, it made her skin prickle with longing.

She could feel his eyes on her, her already pinked cheeks deepened in colour at this. She turned, her hand coming to rest over her thigh as she did so. No longer could she stay away from him. Their lips found each other almost immediately, the salty taste of the bannocks still fresh in their mouths as they devoured each other. Their tongues danced and they breathed as one, desperate to be as close as possible.

Claire straddled him, the food now forgotten, there was only one thing they both needed to sustain themselves further.

–

Getting themselves dressed had been a hard task, they’d given themselves a day of rest, but now Jamie wanted to take Claire out to explore. It was bright and warm outside, the perfect weather for taking her into the forest on the borders of Fraser lands. Plus, he thought deviously, plenty of nooks and crannies for misdeeds.

As they wondered, hands clasped tight, Jamie told Claire stories of his childhood. She’d marvelled at the freedom he’d had, she had never felt like she’d missed out until now. Granted, she’d had Uncle Lamb and she wouldn’t change that for the world. But they’d travelled an awful lot, she’d never had a place to call home. Her stories were of strange places and even stranger people, sometimes. Nothing like the wild existence Jamie had been brought up with. His eyes were alight as he told her about those times he’d been up to mischief and he’d run off into the woods to escape his fathers’ wrath.

“I’d been out here about three hours or so, just hiding myself in the boughs o’ the trees, I could hear da calling out to me. I was so afeared, I kent he’d take his belt to me once he found me, but he sounded fair worrit. So I went to him. I wasna wrong about the thrashing either! That one still stings now!” He laughed and the sound echoed through the slight clearing they’d found themselves in. “I learned my lesson then, but how do ye tell a wee one about animals and food when ye ken they’ve taken a shining to one?”

She could tell he was thinking about how he’d teach their baby about such matters, it made her smile. The story had featured a very young Jamie and an over-friendly calf, whom he’d then freed knowing it was to be sent to the slaughter soon. His mother had sat him down afterwards, and explained the circle of life, but it made Claire pause. She knew motherhood would be a task, but these little moments reminded her of what subjects she might have to face, bringing the wee one up on a farm.

“I’m sure they knew you were only doing what you thought right, at the time.”

“Aye, they did. I was a wee bit of a scamp as a wean. I didna mean to, but I just couldna help myself. Mam spent half her time trying to cover for me, but da always kent what I was up to. After she lost her last bairn, she was that wee bit more protective of us, ye ken.” He was looking off into the forest now, his gaze reflective. She held her hands over her belly and prayed, she didn’t do it often but now seemed like the time. She couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose a child, nor did she ever wish to.

“I can see yer mind working, my Claire. Dinna think on such things, our wee bean is going to be fair and bonnie, ye needn’t fear. I’ll look after ye both, I promised in my vows, it isn’t something I take lightly.” At this he took hold of her hands, turn them and kissed her palms with such reverence. Then he kneeled at her feet and kissed her small bump, whispering at their wee bean in Gaelic. Claire was comfortable enough to simply stand and let him do as he must, she was enjoying the slight breeze on her face.

“What did you say to the babe?”

“I told him, or her, that he had an extremely beautiful mamma, that’s all.” He winked, cheekily, up at her, before standing and pulling her over to a nearby rock. “Sit, mo Sorcha, let’s rest here a bit. It’s a bonnie spot, is it no’?”

“Jamie Fraser, I think you’re fibbing!” She chastised, jokily, as she sat on his lap. The small clearing around them was alive with the sound of the wind breezing through the trees and the small creatures going about their day, Jamie and Claire sat against one another and listened to the world move around them. Her wedding ring, sitting neatly on her proper finger, glinted as the sun hit it and Jamie wrapped his hand around it. As he twirled it around her finger he kissed a small patch of exposed skin on her neck, she smelt of honey from the morning and wild flowers.

She sighed, and lay back more fully against him, closing her eyes. She was content to sit and let him touch her indefinitely. The sun was warm enough that they weren’t cold. Jamie was certainly warm enough to heat them both, had they needed it.

“I love ye, Claire Fraser. My wife.” He purred into her ear, as he nipped at the skin at the base of it. Running his hands up her day dress, he ran his tongue along the shell of her ear. “I want ye…Claire Fraser. Now.”


	23. The Honeymoon - Part 2

The sun had migrated across the clearing, Jamie and Claire lay under Jamie’s plaid, protected against the chill of the mid afternoon. He was asleep, facing her. His eyelashes fluttered against the soft skin of his upper cheeks as he lost himself in a dream. A small smile twitched across his lips as Claire watched him, running her fingers over the soft edges of his exposed clavicle. In the distance she could hear the echo of water trickling down a brook, the birds chirped overhead, the forest still alive around them.

Up ahead a young deer sat munching on the spring shoots of grass, Claire watched in fascination as it slowly made its way by her. Its downy baby hair still matted in clumps under its belly. Small flurries of air drifted from its nostrils, sending bursts of steam from her nose as she skirted the edge of the clearing, steadily making her way towards the sound and scent of the stream. Claire twisted and followed her with her eyes, her interest captured. Carefully making sure Jamie was covered, she rose and followed quietly behind, enamoured by the sleek movements of the deer, its ears flicking in time with its breathing. She was beautiful.

Claire reached the water just as the doe turned and fled off into the forest. A small waterfall covered an inlet on the approach to a clear lake. The water looked deep and inviting, and before she knew what she was doing Claire found herself waist deep in the cool stream. Her skin shuddering delightfully as it washed by her. She allowed herself a few indulgent moments, twirling in the water, dipping her head beneath the surface and damping her hair, lying on her back and allowing the current to push her along. She was so content she failed to notice that she was being watched.

Jamie sat, naked, on a rock by the waterfall. The pulsing sound of the liquid hitting the flat calm drowning out any sound in the vicinity as he gazed at his wife floating soundlessly by. Her hips bobbed up and down, the droplets of water washing over the slight rise of her belly before sliding back into the pool. She looked so at peace, her hair fanning around her head just below the surface ripples of the pool. With every rise of her chest, her breasts pushed through the water, causing a soft sound to fill the air. She was so beautiful, he glanced over her from head to foot and back again, keeping himself chained to the rock for the moment but desperate to swim out to her.

She was humming to herself when she felt the first waves lap against her sides, the small lake had been so calm until now, it could only be another presence that had disturbed the peace. As best she could she tipped her head to the side and caught a glimpse of the flash of red before it was submerged below her. She chuckled and pulled her legs under, only to be captured in Jamie’s strong arms.

“Ye ken, mo Sorcha, there’s a wee cave behind the waterfall. Big enough for us to slink into. If ye wanted?” His breath tickled her neck as he whispered in her ear, his hips and hers dancing rhythmically under the waves, their legs neatly tangling as he swam them back a little way. She could feel the steady spray of the falls on her shoulders now, Jamie must be half submerged, but she didn’t turn around to check. She merely nodded against him, curious to see from behind the flow, already imagining the beauty of the world through the mass of falling water at her back.

He tugged them both through, getting a fresh blast of cold as they pushed under the heavy rivulets of water flowing down from the stream above. Claire was right, the mish-mash of greens, distorted through the falls, looked incredibly beautiful. She could make out the banks in front of her, and the forest beyond that. But they were wobbly and unclear. The sounds in the cave were muted echoes of the outside world, and the smell musty. The bursts of moss and lichen growing in thick bunches along the slick wet of the stone cavern gave a green reflection and tinted hers and Jamie’s skin.

He let her go, happy to lean against the cave walls and watch her swim in circles, taking in her surroundings. He used to come and hide here as a child, the small area creating a strange warmth that cocooned him like a wee bairn in the womb. He imagined his wee bean now, locked away in its own little nook and smiled at the notion. Claire cocked her head as she watched him out of the corner of her eyes, his eyes alight with wonder.

“…and what, pray tell, has brought such a smile to your face, Jamie?”

“Ach, weel…I was just thinking, our wee one is tucked away in a cavern like this. All warm, surrounded by walls but safe. Ye ken?” Claire’s smile mirrored his now, as she half walked, half swam over to him. Her arms coming to wrap around his shoulders as he picked her up, the water aiding him, and pulled her to him.

“Yes, you’re right Jamie.” She nipped along his neck as she spoke, her tongue lapping at the small beads of sweat forming along the creases of his heated skin.

“Warm, cosy and safe. Like us, now.” Her fingers slipped beneath the water line, and ran patterns along the tender skin of his thigh against the current swirling against them.

He lifted his leg, propping his heel against the slippery rocks under the flow. The movement was subtle, Claire’s hand slid upwards with it coming to rest against him as he rolled his hips to meet her.

“That’s how it is, is it?” She moaned against his lips, as she lifted herself closer to him, letting the pulses of water push her against him. Her breasts pushed flush against his chest, the fair hair that lay damp across his ribs bristling over her nipples as the breath caught in her throat. In one swift movement, taking advantage of her momentary lapse, he twirled her around making sure her arse could rest against an outcrop of rock.

“Aye, it is, my Claire…” The water sloshed as he thrust his hips upwards, capturing her between the cave walls and himself. The warmth of the air and the warmth of her surrounding him caused him to buck erratically as she tightened her legs around him. The echoes of their moans rebounded off the thick walls and merged with the drips of the droplets as they hit the, now sloshing, pools enveloping them.

On the outside, the small doe munched and watched the pair through the falls, her bright brown eyes catching the swathes of pink that shone through the flurries. Their sounds, muffled by the flow, causing her to twitch her ears and stop her dinner before continuing on, as the sun began to set on the horizon.

–

Claire and Jamie had finally made it to their honeymoon suite, damp and tired but there nonetheless. The last evening of their solitude, Jamie couldn’t help but feel a little sorrowful at having to return to the world after being alone with Claire for so long. Her sodden curls bobbed against the bare flesh of her shoulder as she pulled back the coverlet and patted the mattress beneath.

“Bed time, Mr Fraser.” Her eyes twinkled in the darkened room, the memories of the last few days running across her irises as she sat slowly, beckoning him to her. She was gloriously naked in front of him, her legs parted as she pushed herself back against the wall of the cottage.

“Bed time…Mrs Fraser.”


	24. The Pregnancy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr: http://mybeautifuldecay.tumblr.com/post/142740991860/a-port-in-the-storm-part-23

She often fell asleep wrapped in Jamie’s plaid. He would come in, late from his day’s work, creep slowly through the Lallybroch halls and quietly enter the room they now shared, together. He loved to watch her, now quite round with their child. Her arms would be curled around the bairn, but the bigger she grew, the less the tartan covered her.

During the lead into the summer months it had grown quite hot in the highlands, and Claire had taken to sleeping only with the plaid.

These were Jamie’s favourite days. He would just sit and admire her, her toes would curl when she was having an especially good dream. Her lips would turn up in a smile as she buried her head further into the pillows. If he were lucky, he would hear her mumble his name in her sleep.

On occasion, he would chuckle to himself and she would move, unconsciously, towards him. Turn over, if she had her back to him, and flexing as if begging him to join her. She wouldn’t seem to wake, but her fingers would stretch and twitch in his direction. Her eyebrows would draw together, as if she were confused, she could hear him, why wasn’t he wrapped around her?

This would, inevitably, make him move towards her. His instinct dictating to him that she needed to feel him. She was so attuned to him, whilst awake she was able to contain herself, but asleep, she was powerless. He had no such restraint. Awake or asleep, he always had the urge to touch, kiss or simply look at her.  
This is why he treasured these moments. Unencumbered by her need to be proper, she would seek him out, almost desperate in her need to have him close. She would become restless and agitated the longer she could sense him close but could not feel him.

He revelled in getting slowly closer and closer, her body twitching and unfurling the nearer he got. At last he would slowly run a finger along her outstretched palm, she would let out a breath and her body would relax slightly. Her lips would soften and she would moan lightly.

He would move tentatively, ever closer. She would shift, infinitesimally, towards him. It was a subtle dance between the two of them, one conscious, the other not.  
He would place his hand, softly, over her extended belly, rubbing their wee creation and muttering Gaelic at him or her. The plaid, which ran over her shoulders and haphazardly down along only a portion of her tummy, gently moved aside so he could reach all of her.

She would, without fail, whisper his name at this point. He would smile, climb up onto the bed, finally, and lie nose to nose with her.

Only then would the tension seep from her, as he pulled her fully against him. The more pregnant she got, the more difficult it was, but Jamie refused to let that stop him. In fact, it only made him want to pull her closer.

Her belly would cradle between the two of them, fusing them together. Some nights he could feel the bairn moving against him, writhing, its lithe form poking and probing the thin layer of skin that lay between it and the world beyond. Jamie convinced himself that the wee thing was reaching out to him. He would tell old Scottish folk tales in Gaelic, and when this elicited a response he would smile and place his hand over her tummy once more.

More often than not, he would spend hours like this, as the sun sank out of sight and darkness fell upon them. Time seemed unimportant.

Sometimes Claire would wake and listen at his stories and other times she would sleep on.

It always ended the same, though. Eventually she would rouse, take his lips under hers, guide him ever closer and beg him, she wanted to feel him over every inch of skin. Her flesh would quiver as he bayed to her whim. Unable to ever say no to her, Jamie would cover every inch of her with tender kisses. Too big now for him to lie atop her, she would curl on her side facing away from him, his tongue running patterns over her spine as his hands stroked rhythmically along the inside of her thighs, he had only to sweep the light smattering of hair there for her to push back against him, ending their playful dance.

Afterwards, they would fall into a deep sleep, him curled tightly around her, his head buried in her neck. Sated and satisfied.


	25. The Arrival

“Goddamn…bloody BASTARD!” The thread hit the wall with a thud, Claire’s bare feet making more of a racket as she stomped in circles sucking her thumb where the needle had pricked it. “Stupid, meagre…insolent piece of metal!” The sun filtered in through the windows, throwing bursts of gold here and there, warming Claire as she caught its rays. But that didn’t calm her ire, she was incredibly uncomfortable.

Their wee bean was not so wee anymore, but she still had a week to go. Add to this the cramps and patches of bleeding Claire had been experiencing, it was not altogether pleasant. Jamie had resigned her to their rooms. He was worried, she knew this, but being locked away on bedrest for near on a week had sparked her temper. The Frasers had all been watching her like a hawk, making sure she didn’t disregard any of Jamie’s orders and go wondering off, but today they’d all been called upon to assist in calving, and Claire had been left alone.

She eyed the closed door of their chambers, warily. Everyone would be busy in the sheds, nobody would be paying attention to her. She could sneak out for just a little while, she only needed an hour or so to breathe in some fresh air, to see the sunshine and feel its proper warmth on her face. Without more thought she grabbed her cloak and made a swift exit. Her skirts swished around her as she fled down the stairs, eager to be outside as fast as possible. She didn’t even contemplate where to go, she just walked. The moment she hit grass she sighed, having completely forgotten to put her shoes on, the gravel had embedded into the soft parts of her feet as she’d cut across the pebbled entrance to Lallybroch.

She lifted her head up to face the bright daylight, her smile radiant as it heated her pallid skin. She eased her pace now, plodding along at a reasonable rate for a woman in her ninth month of pregnancy. The small building of the mill appeared before her as she rounded another hill, it’s waterwheel sloshing and emitting the most beautiful sound. Letting the drops guide her, she hiked up her skirt and walked the remainder of the field, desperate to dip her feet in the shallow pool.

–

She couldn’t have been out an hour when she felt the telltale sign of her little visitor, the afternoons made the bairn feisty. Maybe it was time for some lunch, she unwrapped the small parcel of food she’d taken for herself and started to munch on some bread. The water lapped up around her ankles, the sunshine warming it’s shallow depths.

The first pain came without much warning, her belly contracted and she doubled over, the breath having been knocked out of her. But that was only a light one, she’d passed it off as trapped gas or something similar, thinking she still had a week or so to go before the baby should show itself. After an hour or so, though, she gripped her sides and pulled herself out of the water. The pain was rippling across her stomach at an alarming rate, getting closer and closer together with every passing moment. She managed to crawl towards the mill house, twist herself around and rest her back against its solid walls, her legs parted naturally as she cried out through each contraction.

She watched the sun make its journey across the sky and counted the minutes between each clench, she hadn’t felt her waters break so she clung to that with all her might, praying that someone would come and find her before she started properly going into labour. She cursed loudly, Jamie would be so angry at her. As if to reiterate her thought, the baby kicked at her stomach causing a rush of fluids across the top of her thighs and down the stones.

“Oh, please baby…please, j-just…OH GOD!” She cried out as the pain intensified, her hands gripped at the small patches of grass either side of her, ripping it from the roots as her legs pulled up closer to her belly and she pushed with everything she had. The sweat gathered on her brow and her head fell back against the wall as it finally came to an end and she could breathe once more.

It must have been dinner time, the light was beginning to fade and the heat of the day was vanishing. Soon it’d be dark and cold, but she wasn’t quiet, she was howling through her labour, partly because of the pain and partly to give some indication of her position. She was sure someone would have found her missing by now and come out after her, at the back of her mind she worried that the calves had caused problems and the tenants hadn’t found their way back to Lallybroch yet. But no, she couldn’t allow herself to think that. They’d be back and they’d have noticed her absence. She’d just have to keep going. She remembered watching births, she knew the basic protocols. Her hand slipped tentatively between her legs to feel, she brushed her fingers lightly over the small, hard patch of bone and hair that lay there. The baby’s head, there it was, making its entrance into the world.

Claire cried out longer and harder now, she was afraid. She’d do it if she had to, but she didn’t want to give birth here, alone.

She slid down the brickwork now, her body tired from the birth. The orange glow of sunset flitted through the water to her side and made the grass blaze, she smiled, a small fatigued smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. The tears that welled there fell, one by one, down her reddened cheeks. In the silence she heard calling in the distance. She held her breath as she strained to hear, she swore it was her name that carried on the wind.

“J-Jamie!! I’m…oh…p-please! I’m here!” She stuttered out, as loud as she could. Pushing herself up, she tried to stand hoping that she could make her way towards the voice. She was certain it was Jamie. Her legs wobbled as she finally got to her feet, the pressure from within making her waddle even more pronounced than usual. She clung to every tree see passed as she pushed forward, yelling out as often as she could.

Her contractions were so close she barely had breathing room between them and she could feel baby’s head even more now. She held on to the nearest birch, it’s solid truck rooting her to the earth as she panted through another painful push. Her eyes squeezed shut and before she had time to cry out a pair of strong arms enveloped her from behind. She sobbed as she fell back against Jamie, his woodsy scent curled around her and her hand came up to take his.

“Mo Sorcha! What did ye think ye were doing! I told ye not to go off!” If she’d have been able to turn and see his expression, she’d have seen the bone deep panic that had settled there. As it was, she could only lay against his chest and pant.

“Aaahh…I’m s-sorry! J-Jamie. The baby. I’m having the baby!”

“I kent that, Sassenach!” He growled as he swept her up into his arms before striding off towards the big house.

Claire buried her face in his neck and held on for dear life, she only needed to make it back to the house then she’d be in her bed with the midwife. She could do that, she told herself.

Jamie was beside himself, he’d spent half the day knee deep in baby calves, just born and hardly able to stand. Only to come home to find his mother stricken and Claire gone. It had taken him longer than he’d like to track her down, but she’d left no trace. When he’d come across her all of his worst fears came to life. She was clinging desperately to a nearby tree, her legs covered in mud and water and traces of blood. He was furious, but so utterly relieved. He marched back into the house and up to their rooms with her securely in his arms, his heart finally beating out a normal rhythm.

The midwife, his mam and Jenny all glanced up before simultaneously breathing out sighs of relief. From that moment the room was awash with activity. The women rallied around as Jamie placed Claire in the centre of the bed, she looked well and truly worn out. His eyes softened as he looked her over, at least he had her safely home, but it had been a close call. She could have very easily still been out there giving birth on her own, in the dark.

She chose that moment to cry out, the deep boom of it echoed around the candle lit room and shook him to his bones. Her fingers were deathly white as they gripped the mattress tightly, her head flung back against the pillows that propped her up. He ached to go to her, to comfort her but the midwife was giving him an unforgiving glare, a look that said he needed to make a quick exit. He turned to leave just as Claire let out another almighty squeal, her hand extended towards him now, her eyes focuses on his.

“No! Jamie!! I need you! You can’t leave me…PLEASE!” Her voice was raw, the prickled patches of red that once only stained her cheeks now ran all along her chest. He looked at all of the women in the room, they all seemed sympathetic but unsure.

“Ye canna stay man! Get ye gone! She’ll be fine, it isna proper for a man to be in the room whilst the babe is born!” The midwife interjected, her tone leaving no room for argument. He took a step backwards, his eyes flitting from one woman to the next and back to Claire who was panting in time with her contractions.

“Jamie FRASER! No, please. I can’t do this without you. I spent h-hours out there. B-by myself…alone. I NEED YOU. Don’t…d-don’t leave me!” She was sobbing earnestly now, thick tears fell from her eyes and dropped along her jaw until they fell down her partially exposed chest. Jenny had taken it upon herself to make Claire ready, since she’d arrived almost fully dressed. Her shoulders were shaking which caused her whole body to spasm in time. He shook his head.

“Yer alright, Claire. Ye are safe, I shouldna stay…” he trailed off feebly, even to his own ears it sounded weak. There was nothing he wanted more than to be by her side, to see their wean come into the world as one. However, social convention dictated otherwise and the midwife scared him a little.

“I can’t do this without you, Jamie.” She cried out, as she tried to curl up in a ball, the large expanse of her tummy and the late stage of labour preventing her from moving too far.

“Claire, ye ken he canna stay.” Ellen tried to reason, but even she felt it was a loosing battle. She looked from Claire to Jamie and saw the desperation on both of their faces. They’d both had a large shock today, and were still reliving that. Maybe it would be better to let him stay, to let him talk her through it. One slight nod in his direction was all Jamie needed to make his mind up.

“J-Jamie…” Claire made one last scream of his name before succumbing to her need to push. Dropping all pretence, Jamie quickly rushed over to her and took her hand in his. She held on tight, afraid that he’d disappear any moment. He could tell the midwife wasn’t best pleased with this arrangement, but Claire had relaxed significantly since he’d taken hold of her so he didn’t think much more on the subject. He was staying, that was what mattered now.

“Just push, Claire, a ghraidh. Dinna fash, yer close to the end now, aye?” He leaned his forehead against hers, the moisture pooled between their heated skin as he breathed with her, their chests rising and falling in time, their eyes locked on each other’s. The other women in the room took a step back, admiring the connection of the pair as they seemingly worked through the birth together. There seemed no need for anyone else, but they stayed just in case anything went awry.

–

It took only a few hours for Claire to bring her wee bairn into the world, it was a fight but she did it. The sounds of the weans first breaths filled the room as their small bundle wailed and cried for the first time. Jamie stood, the bairn wrapped in swaddling and laid in his arms, smiling with tears in his eyes.  
“It’s a wee boy! Claire, ye’ve a son!” Ellen exclaimed, the emotion too much for her to contain.

Claire lay with her hand on her wee boy’s head, her fingers running circles over the downy soft hair that lay on his there. The bright red curls swept only over the crown, but already he looked like the perfect miniature of his father.

“He’s so beautiful.” Jamie whispered, the small bundle chose that moment to gurgle out the cutest little noise, his tiny nose scrunched and his eyes crinkled as he fidgeted against his da. “Welcome to the world, my son.”

“Have ye a name for the lad?” The midwife declared, glad that this odd moment was over and she could finally leave.

“Aye!” Jamie gave one look at Claire, smiling up at him from the bed, cocooned now in blankets as she rested. “We do.”

“…and, what is it to be?” She pressed, eager to be away.

“Brian. Brian Murtagh Lambert Beauchamp Fraser” Jamie pronounced all the names clearly, a vast grin brightening his face as he did so. Jenny and Ellen gripped each other’s hands, their smiles nearly as wide as his. Claire simply lay exhausted, glad that Uncle Lamb had a way to be forever remembered in their home.

Wee Brian lay comfortably in his fathers’ arms, unaware of the happiness he’d cemented in that small room, but glad for the continued warmth his da provided him, his ornate fingers gripping at Jamie’s sweat drenched shirt.


	26. Reconnections

She stared over him, wee Brian had rolled slightly and now lay half on his side, his little chubby fingers reaching up to try and grasp and the stray hairs that fell from Claire’s head. His eyes were bright blue and he watched her with such a Fraser expression that it bought tears to her eyes. She couldn’t help but think back over the last few weeks, how he’d grown in that short time. He gurgled and laughed before flopping onto his back once more, his eyes closing and opening with each breath. Soon he’d be asleep once more.

Claire rocked the crib a little and ran a finger gently down his soft cheek, his hands sprung up and gripped her finger, hard. She couldn’t stop watching him. Her little miracle.

“Staring at him that hard willna keep him wee, mo Sorcha.” Jamie chided as he came behind her and wrapped his arms around her. She turned and laid her head against his chest, letting his warmth seep through her.

“I’m so sorry…for going out, for not listening to you. Jamie, I…” She scrunched her eyes up and clung to him, “…it could have ended so badly.”

He held her close, it had been a massive shock to come home and find her gone but he knew she’d been feeling the pressure of being locked away.

“No, Claire, dinna fret about that now. I kent ye were restless, I should have taken ye out afore ye felt the need to escape by yerself. He’s here and he’s safe, no need to be upset over it.” He soothed, rubbing her back as she cradled her head against him. He could feel the warmth of her tears as they hit his skin, but she wasn’t sobbing hard. Just the pressure of having a new bairn, he thought.

“Look how bonnie he is, sleeping there wi'out a care in the world. Ye’ve made me the happiest man alive, Claire, and I didna think I could get any happier.”  
As if he knew he was being talked about, Brian chose that particular moment to twist and burp loudly. Claire giggled against Jamie, pushing herself away for a moment in order to reach up and capture his lips against hers.

“He’s certainly making himself at home. I’m so grateful you stayed with me, I was so scared!”

“Ye had us all in bits, Claire. But I thought that midwife was about to tear me limb from limb, it was mam who told me it wa’ the right thing to stay. I didna ken if it was the proper thing to do, but ye needed me and I needed you, and that’s all that matters.”

Claire rested her cheek against his chest now, feeling the gentle beat of his heart against her. Ellen had been so good to them, she was truly in awe of her skill when it came to Jamie and she hoped she’d be just as good a mother.

–

Jamie watched Claire from the doorway, she was sat in the little rocking chair his da and Murtagh had fashion for her humming away. Wee Brian was fast asleep in her arms. She looked so at peace, but he wasn’t fooled. She hadn’t left the house since Brian’s birth a whole month ago. He knew his sudden arrival had shaken her, but he couldn’t let this go on. She needed to get out, even if she took Brian with her.

“Claire, mo Sorcha?” He entered the room with caution, he didn’t want to wake his son. “Ye need to get some air, why don’t we put the wee one down for a moment? Mam will take good care of him, I want to take ye outside.”

“It’s fine, Jamie. It’ll be dark soon. Maybe tomorrow?” She looked up at him from under her lashes, she was trying to stall him but he wasn’t about to let it drop.  
“No, Claire. Ye need to come wi’ me. Ye have been in this room since he was born, Sassenach. I ken yer a wee bit…afeared, after what happened. But yer both safe now, and ye need to leave the house. Ye can bring Brian, or ye can come alone. I willna force ye to set him down if ye dinna wish to.”

Claire sighed as she readjusted wee Brian’s blankets. She knew he was right, she just couldn’t believe how much time had passed since his birth. She hadn’t really thought about it, but suddenly it was one month later and she hadn’t left the house. At first it was simply because she was recovering, but in the end it had grown into something more. A number of members of the family had made comments about it, but so far she’d managed to dodge the issue. Now Jamie had come to take her out, though, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. The look in his eyes told her that he was serious.

“Alright. You’re right, of course. He’s asleep, I should leave him here.” Her shoulders hunched, Jamie could tell she was nervous, but she was right. His mam could come and look in on him and bring him out if he woke whilst they were away.

“Come then, a ghraidh. I have some food for us downstairs, we can have a picnic like we did before we were wed!” He smiled over at her, trying to put her at ease. She padded slowly over the crib before placing the bairn inside, she made sure he was all wrapped up before turning to face Jamie. “See, he’s safe.” He held his hand out to her and she took it gratefully.

–

They walked the length of Broch Tuarach, the sun was shining low in the sky warming them both through. As they came back round, Lallybroch coming back into view, Jamie laid down the blanket and set out the picnic.

“I wanted ye to get some daylight, but I ken ye arena comfortable wi’ leaving the wee man for too long. So we can eat here and ye can see the house.” He grasped her hand in his lap and massaged her fingers as she started to relax. Moving over, she curled herself against his front, enjoying the mid-afternoon heat and the slight Scottish breeze.

“Thank you, Jamie. I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“Ach, lassie. Ye dinna need to be sorry. I kent that it was getting out of hand, and I needed to get ye out here before ye grew roots in that room.”

“I miss him, is that daft?” Claire buried her head deeper into Jamie’s neck, her hand gripped tightly at his.

“Non so daft, Claire. He grew inside ye for nearly nine months. Ye’ve barely set him down in the last month, of course ye miss him.” He cuddled her close, watching the light dim in front of him.

Their food forgotten, they simply sat together breathing in fresh air. Jamie had missed this. He loved his son more than anything, but having Claire so distant had been hard. They’d shared a bed every night since Wee Brian’s birth, but every day he’d been busy on the farm with his da and his lack of free time had driven Claire to become quite insular.

Murtagh had pulled him aside only the day before and told him, in not so many words, that he needed to spend some daylight hours with Claire and the wean. He’d agreed wholeheartedly but summarised that he couldn’t leave his da with all the chores. He smiled thinking of the look on Murtagh’s face as he practically pushed him back to the big house, mumbling all the way about ‘prideful young 'uns being too thick skulled to ask for help’ before assuring him that he’d take some of the pressure off for him.

Claire shifted against him bringing her lips up to meet his in a brief kiss. It reminded him of how much more he’d missed in the last month. It wasn’t that Claire hadn’t been affectionate. She had. But it was simple touches in her drowsy pre-sleep state, and subtle pecks on the cheek rather than anything truly passionate. He understood, she’d just had bairn. His mam had told him to expect this, she’d be tired from feeding and changing, heck, in the first week she’d still be tired from actually giving birth.

“I can see your mind turning, Jamie Fraser!” Claire chastised, playfully. The wind rising suddenly and sweeping the tight curls at his neck upwards. She brushed them aside and kissed a line along the exposed part of his neck. He tasted sweet, of summer and oats. He’d been spending time with the horses, she could tell.  
“Aye. I was just thinking that if ye missed the wean as much as I’ve missed ye this last month, then I ken how hard it is for ye to be away.” He smiled wistfully at her, her wild hair billowing around her face, her cheeks pinking at his words.

“I’ve missed you so much, Jamie. I got so caught up in things, I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

“Hush, a ghraidh. Dinna fret about that. I ken where yer mind was, and I’m fair glad about it.”

She pushed him then, and he toppled backwards onto the blanket. Pulling herself up she laid herself flat over his chest, resting her hands on his breast bone and her chin on her hands. He grinned up at her like a fool, his teeth glinting white in the misty evening sunshine.

“…and now, ye have me at yer whim. What are ye to do wi’ me, Mrs Fraser?”

“I have some ideas.” She had a naughty glint in her eye as she rose up over him, resting her legs either side of his hips. He bit his lip in anticipation as she rucked her skirts up to her waist. As the fabric lifted, the subtle scent of bairns’ milk reached his nose, he smiled coyly. She smelt of motherhood and nature, if only he could bottle it.

“I can’t lie with you yet, Jamie. I’m still too sore.” She dipped her head as she spoke, ashamed for a moment that she couldn’t please him as she wished. But he reached forward and grasped her chin gently. His eyes were soft and she knew he wasn’t upset.

“Mo Sorcha! Dinna fash. Just having ye here is enough. We can wait until yer fully healed from wee Brian afore I lie with ye again, aye?”

“Yes. I can do something else for you though…” Claire slid her hand along his covered chest, pulling the thick shirt from his kilt and brushing her fingers over the soft hair that lay below his navel. Jamie’s eyes closed as his head tilted back, his hair floating out over the grass.

“Ah! Claire, ye dinna have…” She quieted him with a kiss, letting her hands now slip along his belt to undo the buckle.

“I could just,” she pulled it away from his kilt, letting it slide open and allowing the fabric to droop a little over his hips, “slide my hands under, but I don’t want to do that.” She whispered against his lips, kissing him as often as possible to keep him occupied.

The moment her palms gripped him his hands came up to bury themselves in her hair as he held her close. His breathing was uneven as she ran her hands along the length of him, the warmth of her causing the most luscious sensations to tingle along his thighs and up into his belly. He left one hand in her hair whilst he allowed the other to slowly glide along the expanse of her neck to the top of her breasts. Tugging at the laces at the top of her corset, he pulled the material away exposing her to the fresh evening air. She gasped against him as his thumb ran patterns over her nipple.

“Ah Dhia! Claire, I want to taste ye, can I…please?” He started to push himself up as best he could, aching to have his mouth on her.

“Y-yes. Please. Yes, Jamie.” She panted . He didn’t waste any time, his mouth found her and he suckled against her like a hungry babe. Claire, shocked by the sheer passion in his actions, struggled to keep her movements steady. But she managed it.

–

Unbeknownst to the lovers, Ellen had brought wee Brian out of Lallybroch in search of them. She sauntered up the hill behind the big house and caught sight of them locked together. She laughed, their position being one that you could only see Claire’s partially exposed side and back atop Jamie, but she knew exactly what they were about. She held Brian closer.

“Seem that yer mam and da are getting reacquainted wi’ each other, mo chuistle. I think we should leave them a wee bit longer, aye? Can ye cope?” He squeaked at her, lifting his chubby little fingers up to pat her cheek softly. His little eyes shone, he looked so like Jamie in that moment and Ellen smiled. “I guess that means yes, good my wee man! Let’s go back inside and I’ll find ye some cows milk to satisfy ye.”

With that she turned and made her way back to the house, a lovely grin on her face.

–

Jamie and Claire lay sated on the blanket, both more exposed to the night air than they should have been. The moonlight lit up the sky and neither could muster the energy to move.

“We should get back, Jamie. Your mother will want her evening back.”

“Aye, we should. But in a moment, please.” He twisted himself onto his side and took her more fully into his arms before kissing her once more. She sighed into him, tasting the slight sourness from her milk on his tongue. The wind blew against them, causing the gooseflesh to rise along their skin. Jamie wanted to imprint this moment into his brain so he’d never forget how beautiful she looked and how sweet she tasted.


	27. The Epilogue.

Faith wandered through the big house looking for her mother, she could hear Brian and her da talking in the study and she could hear Bree buzzing through the gardens, not a care in the world. But her mam, she was nowhere to be found. 

 

Her thick brown curls bounced as she swept through each room, sticking her head around each door in turn. Granda and grandma had left early for a trip to Cranesmuir so it was fairly quiet. Having failed to find Claire, Faith slumped down in the window seat overlooking the vast gardens. Murtagh had made it for her personally, as a wee bairn she used to drag the large chair over to window and watch her mam harvest her garden. In the end Uncle Murtagh had taken pity on her and made her a proper seat. 

 

"Where can ye be, woman!" She mumbled, her frustration palpable. Her Scottish brogue becoming thicker, just like her father. She huffed and leaned forward, her chin coming to rest on her clenched fist. 

 

Claire smiled as she peered around the doorframe. She'd heard her daughter plodding around and had come to investigate. Out of her three children, Faith was the most like her. She had her fathers eyes, but she had Claire's hair and Claire's aptitude for healing. Brian and Bree both loved being outdoors with Jamie, working the land. Whereas Faith, she much preferred hovering around her mothers' new surgery. She could sit for hours watching her work. 

 

"Faith, darling, what's the matter?" She broke the silence, walking slowly across the room to her eldest daughter. 

 

"Ah! Where have ye been, mam? I've looked all over for ye!" She chastised, in that way that daughters do. Her eyes were serious and she crossed her arms as she swivelled to face Claire. 

 

"Well, since you ask, I was just in the cellar rooting out some of the potatoes for Jenny. She's teaching Maggie how to cook."

 

"Oh. Well, da was telling Bree stories again last night, and I was wondering..." She plucked at the loose threads on the base of her dress. Claire held her breath, she knew where this conversation was going. "Why does he never talk about my birth, mam? Always Brian and Bree, but no' really me?" 

 

Claire sighed and wrapped her arm around Faith, at twelve years old she was just starting to notice the little bits of information the adults left out. It wasn't that Jamie didn't want to tell the bairns the story, it's just that it wasn't an easy one for him to recount. He certainly wouldn't want to tell them when they were still young. But since she'd actually asked the question now, Claire wasn't about to deny her the answer. 

 

"I'll tell you, but I have to warn you in advance. It's a terribly difficult memory for your father, he doesn't often like to think about it. He very nearly lost us both." 

 

Faith gasped, she hadn't even contemplated that it could have been for such a reason. But she nodded. She wanted to hear it. 

 

"Alright then, carrying you wasn't an issue. You were just as easy as Brian. It all got more complicated though a month or so before you were born, I'd started to bleed and that wasn't normal. So Jamie put me on bedrest, and after Brian's shocking entrance to the world I didn't dare argue..." 

 

Her mama's eyes had gotten this far off look, Faith noted, and her face was wistful. She could sense the fear even now as Claire held her close, like she was trying to remind herself that they were both here and alive. 

 

\--

 

The pains had started late into the night, it was too early. Four and a half weeks too early and Claire was in a mild panic. Jamie was sleeping beside her, she knew she'd have to wake him soon but she wanted to let him rest for as long as possible. Her stomach clenched and she gritted her teeth to stop from calling out in pain. Her waters had broken a moment before, coating her legs and the mattress beneath. 

 

"Mo Sorcha, what are ye..." Jamie began, shifting towards her as her movements woke him. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he sat up and noticed her posture. "Is it the bairn? Claire?" 

 

"Y-yes...Jamie! I'm sorry...it's too soon!" She moaned as another contraction hit her, she reached up and gripped his hand. She didn't dare look up at him, she knew she'd see the fear there. She'd started bleeding only a few weeks before and now this, her heart was beating painfully in her chest. 

 

Her pregnancy had been a complete shock to both of them, wee Brian was nearly six. They'd both assumed that more children wasn't on the cards, but they'd been pleasantly surprised at the discovery. Now she was worried, especially if this didn't end well. No. She couldn't allow herself to think like that, she had to banish those thoughts to the back of her mind and continue with the birth as normal. She'd seen women give birth early and it didn't mean she wouldn't have a healthy baby. 

 

Jamie had rushed from their bed to fetch his mam and the midwife, he'd returned as promptly as he was able and helped Claire to sit in a more comfortable position. She was panting more now, holding her distended belly as she cried out. He could do nothing but wipe the sweat from her brow and pray. 

 

Soon the room was a flurry of activity, women buzzing around collecting hot water and towels. Claire held tight to Jamie, he'd been allowed to stay during wee Brian's birth, she wouldn't allow him to leave now when it was so vital that he was by her side. 

 

"Dinna fash, a ghraidh, I'm no' going anywhere. Just concentrate on yerself and the bairn." He soothed her, his fingers sweeping the damp hair from her forehead. "It's going to be alright, yer doing so well." 

 

He managed to keep his tone even, but inside he was a mess. He could see the looks on everyone's faces. The midwife was shaking her head and whispering to his mam with a very grave look on her face. He had to keep Claire's attention solely on him lest she see the stricken looks on the others. She was scared enough as it was. He gave his mam a quick look, she immediately twisted the midwife around and steered her to the window. 

 

"J-Jamie..." She mouthed, barely making a sound, "...I need some water, please." He nodded, kissing both her cheeks before slowly pushing himself out of the room. Every step he took away from her felt like a lifetime, he felt as though he was having an out of body experience. 

 

Claire hoisted herself up the bed higher as she watched him through bloodshot eyes, his shoulders were slumped. He looked like a man being led to the gallows, but she had to know what was going on and she knew he'd never allow them to be truthful with her. She groaned, her legs trembling. Her insides felt like they were on fire, that was the first sign that something was amiss. 

 

"What's...s-somethings wrong! Wh-what is it? P...please, Ellen." She forced through her clenched teeth, hopefully she'd been loud enough to get their attention. Both ladies turned at the sound of her voice, their eyes held such sorrow that she already knew how precarious it was. 

 

"Mistress, if I may be so bold, yer bleeding quite a lot. The bairn, firstly, isna coming heid first..." Claire gasped and pushed as her second wee visitor pressed heavily down on her, joined with the bad news she'd just been delivered she couldn't help but cry out. 

 

"Ye have to try and stay calm though, Claire. We'll be here as will Jamie, just stay wi' us, please?" Ellen's voice held as much worry as her eyes did. Claire nodded and shimmied herself a little way down the bed, unable to face the idea of loosing her baby any longer. She shut off all thought and just focused inwards. If she could keep a hold on herself she could stay present, she was sure of it. 

 

\--

 

The blanket covered her middle, Jamie noticed as he came back into the room with a jug of water and a glass. That hadn't been there when he'd left, he shook himself out of his thoughts unable to deal with the prospect of Claire being in pain and helped her to a small drink. 

 

"I love you, Jamie. Don't let me go." She mumbled in her half conscious state. She could feel the thick rivulets of blood creeping down the insides of her thighs, the viscous liquid clinging to skin and bedsheets. The very thing that kept her alive, seeping out of her. The water had helped but she still felt lightheaded, her palms were caked in sweat and she was finding it difficult to stay attached to Jamie but she wasn't willing to give up just yet. If she could get her baby into the world she could relax, then and only then would she even consider sleep. 

 

The tingling began in her toes, as the hour progressed she could no longer feel the women poking and prodding her and the child. It was totally numb. At the back of her mind she knew this wasn't a good thing, but she was so focused on Jamie and the baby that she had no time to worry for herself. 

 

"Keep pushing, mo Sorcha, nearly there." He'd say to her, his eyes wide and filled with tears. She'd already begun to cry a while back, his fresh wave of sorrow was enough to jar her. 

 

All at once there was a massive release and she flopped back against the pillows with a large sigh. Her legs fell against the mattress like lead weights. She watched as Jamie peered over to see, his hands shaking in hers. She wanted to ask what it was, boy or girl, but she couldn't seem to muster the energy to use words. Her eyes closed as she waited to hear the cries which never came. She could hear everyone rushing around and felt a small push against her centre as the midwife covered her with fresh towels. To stop the blood flood, she thought idly. 

 

"Go...see..." She finally managed to say, lifting Jamie's hand as if to guide him away. He took one look at her, pale and blue lipped and swallowed back his anguish. The bairn had been born bottom first with the chord wrapped around its neck. The women were massaging the wee weans back to try and get breath into it, but they were all awaiting the first cry. The room was deadly silent. 

 

"We just need a wee bit o' faith..." Came Ellen's voice, echoing through the haunting quiet of the main bedchamber. Jamie gasped in a lungful of air and prayed. Claire sat shivering under the blankets, she hadn't heard what Ellen had said but she was praying nonetheless. Her heart had slowed to a dull thud, only beating out because she was forcing it to. Just one cry. 

 

All of a sudden, with a gargantuan surge of energy the wee thing cried out, screaming calls rang through the halls and everyone in the room crossed themselves simultaneously. Jamie rushed over to the midwife whose face was a mixture of shock and awe. 

 

"Ye've a wee daughter, my laird!" She spoke proudly, handing the bundle over to her father. Her pinched nose snuffled as she took in the new worlds around her, the blue tint she'd had when born slowly ebbing with every strong breath she took. Jamie couldn't quite believe it. 

 

Everyone had been so focused on the child that nobody had thought to check on Claire. Jamie turned, a massive smile on his face, to see his wife lying unmoving on their bed. She was too still. The blankets didn't appear to be rising as they should. His face lost all colour as he rushed to her side, the bairn clenched tight to his chest. 

 

"Claire!" He whispered, using one free hand to touch her cold, clammy cheek. 

 

"Claire, ye've to wake now, we have a daughter. Ye have t' meet her!" He forced out, his voice all but begging her to obey. 

 

"I'm sorry, my laird, but wi' the amount of blood she's lost...I've never seen a lassie recover. M-maybe ye should prepare yerself." She stopped, swallowed and licked her lips before she continued to allow him some time to process her news. "Have ye a name for the child? Ye can tell the mistress..." 

 

Jamie looked down at the little girl in his arms, his vision blurred through the tears. She had eyes just like wee Brian's when he'd been born but a mop of curly dark locks on her bonnie head, just like Claire's. Her face was scrunched and red as she snuffled against the bare skin of his upper chest, her wee fists reaching up to tangle in his long hair. He couldn't think straight. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. 

 

"Faith. She's to be named Faith, ye said we had to have it, and now we do." His voice rang out loud and clear, the midwife nodded and curtsied before backing away. His mam watched as he climbed into the bed beside Claire, her hand on her heart as she mouthed the words to the Lord's Prayer in the hopes that someone would hear her. 

 

Using the last of his strength, Jamie placed Faith at her mothers breast. Claire jumped and shifted at the ghostly presence she felt surround her, her arms lifting up to wrap around her little gift. A girl, she could see her in the back of her mind, skipping and running through the tall grass of the pastures surrounding Lallybroch. Her deep brown curls bobbing to and fro in the wind. Her lips curled into a weak smile as she gasped in as much air as possible. Her whole body felt as light as a feather. 

 

Her movement shocked Jamie, he hadn't expected half as much and his eyes watched as she took hold of their daughter and cradled her close. He'd begun to whisper prayers in Gaelic now, no longer having the English to communicate. His shoulders shook and he was so preoccupied with Claire that he failed to notice wee Brian clamber over him, his face covered in honey, his eyes wide. 

 

"A bhalaich! What are ye...ye canna..." Jamie plucked his son from Claire's legs and cuddled him close. 

 

"Why's mama so still, da?" His wee voice broke, as if he already knew the answer. Jamie kissed his forehead before wiping some of the mess from his eldest's cheeks. 

 

"She's just sleeping, a chuisle, dinna fash. Ye ken how hard it is to have a bairn, she's just napping." At this Ellen came and took wee Brian from him, seeing his tears and sensing his anguish, she didn't want Brian to see anymore should the worst happen. 

 

"I'll take him to yer da, Jamie lad. Just stay wi' Claire. We'll all leave ye be." With that the room cleared. Leaving Jamie alone with Faith and Claire. 

 

\--

 

They sat in complete silence for the longest time. Claire still holding Faith. Jamie still glued to her side. He spoke to her for hours, just relaying his hopes and dreams to her. Telling her the reasons she needed to pull through, praying that she could hear him. The sun rose, the dim light speckling against the curtains as it passed by the window. He felt so hopeless. 

 

"Claire, ye had my heart from the very beginning. Ye have to live. I canna do this alone, please, mo Sorcha. Dinna leave us. Faith, she needs ye too. Can ye feel her? Please..." He sobbed, curling himself around his girls as his shoulders shook with the force of his grief. 

 

Damp splashes fell against her breastbone, she felt the cold tears sink into her skin and she knew without seeing where they were coming from. The large patch of warmth against her must be Jamie, he was the only one to fill her with such a desperate need to live. A tiny hand came to rest on her neck. She shook as it clenched and released, the small sharp nails just catching her sensitive skin. Her girl, it must be. Faith. Yes, she had a name. She clung to it with such a fervour that she was sure she almost willed her heart to pick up the pace. Her whole body trembled with the force of it and she opened her eyes. 

 

There he was. Her angel, the one who stayed with her through it all. His bright blue eyes were rimmed with sorrow. She frowned. He shouldn't be sad, he should be happy. She pulled in a breath, preparing herself. 

 

"J-Jamie..." She stopped abruptly, shocked that she'd actually spoken. "I love you, Jamie. I'm sorry."

 

"Dinna ye say that, Claire! No' sorry, no' yet." He pulled her close, his voice low and raspy from his sobbing. She laughed against him and he pulled back to look at her. 

 

"I won't g-go...I promise. S...stay with me, yes?" She closed her eyes now, all but worn out from the sheer exhaustion of staying alive, but decided. She couldn't leave them alone. She had to fight. 

 

\--

 

Hours turned into days, days into weeks and weeks into months. It was slow progress, but progress all the same. Jamie didn't leave Claire's side through the agony of her waking. The doctor rode in only days later and couldn't believe what he'd seen, he reiterated what the midwife had told them, that he'd never seen anyone survive after losing so much blood. Claire simply smiled, nodded and curled back up with wee Faith. 

 

She was the most utterly tiny thing, Claire couldn't quite grasp how she'd managed to do it, but she had. Wee Brian came and went, he held his sister like she was precious treasure. Her head sat perfectly on his lap as Jamie showed him how to change her clout successfully. Brian giggled and held his nose away the entire time, calling out 'stinky pants' as Jamie chastised him before sending him off to his uncle Murtagh for supper. 

 

The house finally began to go back to normal, for which Jamie was glad. He watched quietly as Claire regained her strength. She behaved herself, always doing as he asked. She ate as much has she was able and fed Faith, even though she'd been advised against it in her weakened state. She was determined. 

 

\--

 

Faith hadn't moved for the entire story, even when Brian and Jamie had come to join them and later even Murtagh and Bree. 

 

"Of course we said we'd have no more after you, I was incredibly worried and Jamie was petrified. You can't stop fate though, and during the uprising of '76 I fell pregnant with Bree." Claire chuckled and ran her finger down Faith's tear stained cheek. "We were in the midst of war, starving and trying to avoid getting caught up really. Your grandfather went to meet with the Bonnie Prince, just in case it seemed the Scots might win, but he came home disenchanted. He told us the state of the poor farmers he'd dragged into his cause and we all knew there was more chance of failure than of success. So with some fortune we managed to stay away." 

 

Jamie had made his way over now and laid his hand against Claire's shoulder. Faith looked up at him in awe. 

 

"Ye saved mama, da! Yer a hero!" She mouthed, her eyes filled with wonder.

 

"I should think ye saved her, mo nighean donn. Twas ye at her breast when she decided no' to leave us." His voice held some humour, but all the weans could tell it was covered with a veil of a fear still very much alive. 

 

"So that's why ye never talk of it?"

 

"Aye, Faith. I'm sorry for it. I dinna mean to make ye feel less special. It's just a hard tale to tell, even now. Ken? Wi' Bree we were scared the whole time, but yer mam didna bleed like she did wi' you and then all at once the wee bairn was here and we had no time for worry." 

 

Bree laughed and ran to her da, gripping him tightly around the knees. 

 

"So Faith is special then, da? As she saved mamma?" 

 

He smiled down at his youngest, ever the bright wee thing, only two years behind her sister. 

 

"Aye. That she is." 

 

Murtagh had stood quiet as a mouse the entire time. He smiled as he watched his godson collect his family up, even wee Brian who was now a strapping lad of eighteen. He hadn't been in the big house when Faith had entered the world, but he'd seen wee Brian and Ellen as they came to him. He'd seen the pain and horror on her face and later the sheer relief as Claire regained her strength. 

 

"Right! Ye wee fiends! I think yer mam and da need a moment, come wi' me! I'll find ye all some parritch, and maybe even some honey if yer lucky! Brian, you too, aye?" 

 

The Frasers all kissed Claire and Jamie as they toddled off after Murtagh and his treats, Faith took one look back at her parents and blew them a kiss before turning on her heel and rushing after her uncle. 

 

Claire breathed out a huge sigh of relief as Jamie gathered her up in his arms and sat them both down in the window seat. They watched the children fan out across the field as they followed Murtagh to his cottage. 

 

"They're all miracles, in their own way and I'm so grateful for them. Every day." She sighed, her hands massaging Jamie's as they clung together. 

 

"Aye, yer right about that, mo Sorcha. As are ye, my little fighter. I'm fair happy that we've managed to get them this far. Brian will make an excellent laird, he's already taking charge of the breeding and planting."

 

"You've taught him well, does that mean I get to have you all to myself?" Claire was surprised at his statement. She'd known he was passing the reins over, but so soon? 

 

"I think ye should certainly get used to having me around more, Claire. Do ye...is that what ye want?" He was all of a sudden nervous, he'd been planning this for a long while certain that it was the right time. Claire laughed as she turned and saw the fear in his eyes. 

 

"Oh, Jamie. I'm so happy! Yes, of course I want you around more. Silly!" 

 

She twisted and took his lips against hers, the sun on the horizon covering Broch Tuarach in a blaze of gold which coated them like a blanket. The years hadn't dulled their need for each other and as the light faded and darkness set in they shed their clothes and came together in the cooling air of the lounge. Older and wiser but still as one flesh.


End file.
